Into the Quiet Night
by devilishlysas
Summary: AU to Fugitives Season; Claire involuntarily joins Sylar and Luke's roadtrip set before Shades of Gray, written based on the promo pics . PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes. Reuploaded for corrections.
1. I Like the Quiet

**A/N: Re-uploaded for a grammar/spelling edit: nothing major but they were bothering me. As well as reducing some paragraph sizes.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favourite this. Your support is appreciated.**

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray; was written before the actual episode based on the promo pics.  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 1: I like the Quiet**

"What are we doing?" Luke's mildly petulant voice cut across his thoughts and Sylar spared a moment to glare darkly at him, trying to understand the reasons behind his continued ability to draw breath.

"I have something to collect." He decided on ambiguity, it helped to keep the young man guessing; and he didn't want him to feel too comfortable.

"You're willingly going in there?" Luke asked an eyebrow raised as he glanced back at the hanger. Sylar didn't even bother answering, he wouldn't repeat himself; he slid from the car and slammed the door on his face.

"Stay here." he added sharply, silencing Luke's protest with a look. He spun striding away from the car, the dark night concealing him well enough, if it hadn't been for the security cameras that blinked away with night vision. Waving his hand he tore them from the wall before they had the chance to turn on him, feeling mildly satisfied to hear them shatter as they hit the ground.

Silent footsteps as he approached the hanger told him that his protégé hadn't done as asked, he grinned he'd have to demonstrate why it was a bad idea to ignore his commands later. The boy joined him and Sylar shot him an unpleasant look that he had the decency to at least look afraid of; he looked away unable to meet his eyes. Not waiting for him Sylar stood dealing with the final camera and stalking towards the hanger bay doors, he aimed a bolt of electricity at it frying the circuitry and unlocking the mechanism. Waving his hand he ripped the door of its hinges and stepped through.

The gunfire started almost immediately and he heard Luke cry out, darting away from the doorway, he spared the boy a glance, noting he wasn't injured before he slammed the bullets back in the direction of the shooters. The lights hadn't returned and he considered the idiocy of the men that were supposedly going to lock him away, if you were up against people that could knock out power, why would you link everything into one fuse... morons. As it was the electricity as it flew from his fingers was sufficient to light up the area, revealing the dark helmeted faces of the men that were still standing. He flung out his abilities with abandon, opening his mouth he sent a shockwave that blew the majority off their feet; whilst using his telekinesis to wrench their weapons free of now limp hands. Curling his electricity up into a ball in his hand he used it to light the way as he stalked into the hanger. They were lined up in a row, seated and chained, with the drugs to suppress their abilities pumping through their systems via a nasal tube. He took a moment just to look at the faces as they were revealed to him, some familiar some not. He paused and reached out a hand, grabbing the dark short hair and lifting the head.

"Hello Mohinder." He grinned, the man creaked open one bleary eye, Sylar saw recognition, but then it was gone, lost in a haze of chemicals. He dropped his head, watching as it lolled back to his chest, the notion that he could take his ability occurred before he dismissed it, he wouldn't pollute his body with Mohinder's synthetic faulty ability. He glanced down the row, taking in the faces, Peter wasn't there, nor Parkman the only two who's powers he really wanted. Sylar rolled his eyes, that would have been too easy though, and he did like a challenge, he walked down the line, glancing at Hiro, he pulled the nasal tube out and continued on. From the information on the disc he was of no use to him without his ability, but there was still the chance that one day he'd be able to reacquire it, which would present him with a chance to take it. Instead as Luke gazed at the faces in front of him, he continued down the line to his goal... his prize. Her blonde head fell forward, her golden hair blocking her face.

"We aren't freeing them?" Luke called out, the confusion in his voice evident.

"Do what you like." Sylar replied, rolling his eyes when he heard him reaching forward and wrenching the tubes out. Reaching his goal he took a moment just to savour it, they'd failed her, her ever growing and complicated family had lead her to this. Lifting his hand he raised her chin, her eyes opened, glazed though they were he saw the fire burning in them as her mouth opened struggling for words that wouldn't come. He grinned, he'd always admired her fire. Leaving the tube in place, he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her up, she should have weighed more... something that caused him so much trouble should have substance. He didn't bother to call after Luke, even as one by one their groggy voices began to fill the air as the effects of the drug faded. It didn't matter, they weren't important, not anymore. Luke caught up with him just as he reached the car, he spared the blonde in his arms a sharp scrutinising look as he slid into the front passenger seat. Sylar turned hearing people emerge from the warehouse, their raised voices aimed in his direction; he dropped her in the backseat, readjusting the tube that had started to slide out. Slamming the door shut he turned the ignition, not caring if the others saw or heard... what could they do? He slammed his foot into the accelerator and peeled past them, taking savage pleasure in the way Mohinder's eyes snapped to his and widened in fear; even now. He watched them in the rear view mirror, like frightened animals they were huddled about one another, looking wildly around for help that would not come. He dropped his eyes, feeling disgust rise in his gut for them, they would never be special, had she been awake she would have no doubt taken control for them, led them; they didn't deserve it.

Luke waited until they were well under way and had already hit the interstate before he opened his mouth again. "You broke in to save a girl?" he raised an eyebrow looking back at her then at him again, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind it.

"Yes." A flicker of jealousy bloomed in his young face and Sylar grinned to himself, it was almost too easy to manipulate him.

"I don't get it. Does she have an ability you want?" Luke cast a doubtful look at her again, as if trying to determine what she could possibly have that Sylar didn't. He recognised that look, he'd worn it himself, loathing and longing... Luke had never been popular at school, the girls that looked like her would never have given him a second glance; would have tormented him. He glanced once more at her quiet face, she was drugged into peaceful oblivion, her face twisted and he chuckled, perhaps not so peaceful.

"No." He replied finally, seeing Luke's expression waver between confusion and jealousy with abandon.

"Then why did you go back for her?" his voice had taken on an annoying whiney quality that Sylar found easy to ignore. He'd been so sure he'd gone back for him because he liked him, but given that he had been using the contents of the case so readily, he'd begun to reconsider his position.

"Because." He replied non committal. "She's Claire." The sound of her name seemed to rouse her and she cracked open heavily sedated eyes, somehow finding his, before they fluttered closed.

"Sylar." She breathed, unfortunately the drugs stole most of the venom he knew she wanted to put into that one word.

"She's awake?" Luke asked with renewed interest in their new passenger.

"Her ability." Sylar shrugged, "I'd imagine the dosage in her unit is enough to kill an elephant." He indicated the pack wrapped around her chest. Luke frowned and stared between them, clearly realising he was missing information.

"You know her then?" Luke pressed, Sylar glanced at him, he was desperate to know, to understand, he was feeling generous, after all it had gone better than expected in the hanger.

"Claire and I?" he grinned baring his teeth at Luke, who leant back in his seat, putting distance between them discreetly. "I'm her monster." He laughed lightly.

"But you saved her?" Luke questioned, his confusion growing.

"And believe me the princess in the back seat won't thank me." He chuckled.

Luke opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly closed it again. "I don't get it." He finally ventured, shaking his head and turning to stare out the window instead.

"No, nor do I." He replied meaning it. They rode in silence, punctuated only by the sounds of Claire's laboured breathing and occasionally mumbled words as she struggled to rise from her drug addled stupor.

"Shouldn't we take that thing off her?" Luke asked finally as she moaned without words, turning his eyes back to her.

Sylar risked a glance at her, "No." Luke sent him a questioning gaze and he recognised the sympathy in the boy's features, after all he himself had felt the effects of the drugs not so long ago. "She might look sweet now, all soft and innocent, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth." He raised an eyebrow at Luke letting him know that he knew exactly where his mind was at, "but trust me, when she's awake you'll think differently. I like the quiet." He muttered.

They lapsed back into companionable silence, Luke evidently taking his last words to heart and doing his best to appear to be the 'good' one. For once he didn't ask where they were headed and he didn't clarify, the slight detour to collect Claire hadn't thrown them too far off track for his father's cabin. Luck it seemed was finally on his side, two more days and he'd be able to stand in front of his father.

Sylar stopped the car only once to let Luke go to the bathroom and to collect some supplies, that included a novelty t-shirt, cheap jeans and trainers for Claire, which whilst looking trashy was a darn sight better than the orange jumpsuit she was currently modelling. Not that she'd appreciate it, he acknowledged bitterly, but then it wasn't entirely for her benefit, there was enough heat on his tail already, taking Claire was practically like re-painting the bulls eye in fluorescent colours. In hindsight waiting until he'd been to see his father would have been ideal, but then nothing to do with Claire had ever gone to plan. Her name was on the prisoner manifest he'd pulled off the secure site the laptop had given him access too; not to mention all the plans. Granted the access was now changed, it didn't mean it hadn't been helpful for the 6hour window they gave him to use it.

Luke's head rolled forward onto his chest and he checked the clock, it was getting late, of course he hardly felt it anymore, Claire's ability saw to that, he often felt like he could go forever, which of course he probably would now. It was odd, he supposed she never noticed things like that, fatigue he doubted was something she was familiar with; her ability had been such a part of her for so long that she probably didn't know what the rest of the mere mortals around her had to deal with on a daily basis. Turning off the road he headed for the faded motel sign, Luke would be so pleased, yet another crappy motel for his road trip. Luke woke up just as he turned off the engine.

"Go get us a room, two single beds." Sylar handed him a fistful of cash, expecting to get none of it back, but thanks to Bob's ability he never had to worry about that again. Luke gave Claire's still unconscious form a second glance, before drawing his own conclusions and disappearing over to the front desk. Sylar gave him a cursory glance, making sure he was gone before he turned to the girl in the backseat.

Flicking his wrist the material on her orange jumpsuit gave way and peeled off. His eyes narrowed as he took in her nakedness beneath, it wasn't what he'd intended, he'd simply wanted to put her in the clothes. But now faced with the sheer expanse of her golden skin, he wasn't sure he wanted to cover her. It wasn't like he hadn't seen women naked, in fact Elle not so long ago had been revealed to him in all her glory. But somehow, because it was Claire the moment seemed different, this was something he wasn't supposed to see, was never supposed to want to see. She was one of 'those' girls; and he hated them, he wanted nothing but to tear her perfect world apart... he'd gotten his wish. Now there was a void, her world was broken, her dreams shattered, that oh so perfect life she should have had, gone forever and he still wanted something from her.

He reached out his hand and brushed careful fingers along her collarbone and down her side, skirting a small perfectly formed breast to settle over her flat stomach. His eyes lingered on her face as she blearily opened one eye pinning him with it, he removed his hand and stared back at her. Her eyes closed again and he grinned, before tugging the bright orange jump suit free, keeping the pack aloft and the drug pumping through her system. It was harder to dress a limp girl than he imagined, even with the fine control telekinesis offered. He tugged her into the jeans, wondering at his new found fascination with her skin.

By the time Luke had arrived she was dressed and still drugged, he pulled her up into his arms, her hair concealing the tube in her nose, and the pack beneath his jacket. It wasn't that he was worried about the people in this crappy place finding her like this, he had things to do and if he had to sit waiting for the S.W.A.T. team to show up he'd never get them done.

Luke opened the room and he followed him inside, slamming the door shut as he passed through without touching it. The boy watched him intently as he crossed to the bed and dropped her onto it, resting the pack beside her.

"You're not going to wake her up are you?" Luke sat on his bed and rubbed his hand through her hair, trying to give it some semblance of style after such a long day.

Sylar sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and brushed her hair from her face. "I told you I like the quiet... I prefer her this way." Luke let out a sigh of air and flopped back onto his pillow.

"Seems odd is all." He finally admitted.

"Creepy you mean." Sylar corrected turning to look at the boy who was pointedly looking at the ceiling.

"I guess." He muttered.

"I'm a serial killer." He pointed out throwing his own words back at him. "Keeping a teenage girl drugged in my hotel room doesn't really hurt my image." Luke rolled his eyes, but a small grin crept onto his face.

"Are you going to..." he trailed off and his smile faded when he caught Sylar staring at her. "I mean should I leave?"

Sylar glanced up at the boy and frowned; he raised his hand and wrapped his mind around Luke's throat, choking any further words. "I am a killer, I kill people for their abilities, people that don't deserve what they have. I kill people that get in my way of that goal." He squeezed tighter so that Luke's eyes almost bulged out of his head as he gasped for air.

"I am not a rapist." He spat, his eyes blazing with the fury that word drove into him, he'd been raised by a woman of faith, and whatever he was, whatever he'd become he would never sully his soul with such an act. Murder was clean, honest; the bible even allowed for it under certain circumstances, that he could live with in his black little soul. Luke was starting to look a little blue around the edges, so he tightened his grip, the anger was lashing through him still refusing to loosen its grip.

"Don't presume you know me!" he spat drawing his face close enough that he could almost see himself reflected in his eyes. He dropped him abruptly, mastering himself and reigning in his anger. Luke fell back on his bed, gasping and coughing, as he clasped his hands around his raw throat as his eyes leaked tears. Sylar grabbed his arm, forcing his attention back on him, "If you even think about touching her, I'll do what I should of done the moment I realised you had a power." Luke's eyes went wide and he nodded feverishly.

"I won't, I'd never." He managed; his voice barely recognisable through the choking. Sylar shoved him away and returned to the other bed.

"Go to sleep. We have a long way to travel tomorrow. I want to reach the cabin soon." Luke didn't say a word, just quietly rolled onto his bed, trying to stifle the coughing. Sylar waited, watching until Luke's body relaxed slightly, he wasn't asleep, but he was certainly no longer on edge... the beauty of youth he supposed. He waited another moment before slipping into the bathroom to freshen up, keeping his ears peeled, the ability he'd taken from Dale had began to reassert itself, it was a welcome return, he hadn't realised just how much he'd relied on the ability.

But then just having any of his previous abilities back was a welcome relief, he'd thought they had been lost forever, but there seemed no end to what Claire's blood could do. He was in no doubt that it was her blood, and perhaps his continued exposure to people with abilities and his unique much ignored empathy that was returning them to him now. It helped; the hunger that had once been a gnawing, aching thing, that drove him ever onwards, receded with each ability that he gained, and with each one that returned, giving him hope that one day he would be free of it.

Stepping out of the bathroom he glanced across at Luke, his breathing heavy and deep in his sleep, his eyes turned instead to Claire, they were open. Lowering his head until he was directly over her he gazed into the clouded green of her eyes, her mouth opened, but her tongue was too heavy to form the words. For a moment her green eyes flashed and he saw life in them, anger, hatred, her fire. He grinned coolly back at her, being sure that his image was the one that was clouding her drug addled mind. Clearly it worked, as he slid onto the bed he felt her whole body tense, quite a feat given the muscle relaxant he knew was pumping through her. He leant over, his hand brushing over stomach, until he could whisper in her ear without disturbing Luke, his front was pressed against her side, more out of necessity than any real need to feel her against him; it was after all a single bed.

"Don't worry Claire, I'm going to take very good care of you." he pressed a kiss to her temple before dropping his head back to the pillow, leaving his hand splayed out over her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her muscles clenching as she tried to force her doped body to move. He felt no need to suppress the grin as he closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.

He left them alone that morning for two reasons, the first was his desperate need for coffee, something not shared by the barely old enough to have discovered the vice Luke, and not necessary for Claire. Of course he would have to take her off the drugs eventually, feed her he supposed, but then her body really didn't need much to survive; he knew that from firsthand experience. But she would need basic amenities soon. He intended to hold off, the moment she was awake would be the moment her mouth would open and those wide accusing eyes would round on him. As much as he loved to watch her fear, her fury and pain at everything he'd done to her, it was worth the blessed silence for a little while longer. Worth the way he had gotten to sleep so soundly with the feel of her perfect indestructible body beside him. He closed his eyes, banishing the thought, he slammed a hand into the brick wall, welcoming the sudden flash of pain as the bones shattered, before they knit neatly back together. He observed it coolly, pleased that the thoughts had faded for now.

As he approached the room, his coffee and donuts in hand, waiting silently behind the curtains, watching, for the second reason he had left them alone. His hearing allowed him to track Luke's movements as he woke, padding to the bathroom. He shifted the curtain aside with his ability so that he could see through a crack, as he waited, watching. Luke re-emerged and stood stock still, casting his eyes about the room almost furtively, Sylar frowned, wondering if perhaps he had been detected, but as Luke let out a sigh and turned a sharp grin on Claire, Sylar felt justified in his suspicions. He waited, holding the breakfast loosely in his hands so not as to crush it, whilst Luke sidled over to Claire. Luke's hand went out and he traced his hand along the bed beside her, never quite touching her. Claire's eyes opened briefly and Luke cocked his head staring down at her intently.

"Why are you so damn important to him?" he muttered, and her eyes closed again. Luke sighed his hand hovering inches from her hair, as if he wanted to lift her golden hair and examine it, but he resisted. He glanced back around the room, his eyes hovering briefly on the door before he turned back to her, seemingly convinced once more that he was alone. His hand reached out for hers and he paused, "He'd kill me." He breathed, but his hand remained hovering. "If he knew." He added, Luke glanced around again, fidgeting his feet slightly before his eyes dropped to her again.

"Are you worth it?" he asked her and she shifted in response her hand almost touching his as it lay against the bed, he jumped back as if burned, tearing his hand away before her skin could brush his. Luke grimaced and turned stalking back to his bed, he sat heavily on the edge and stared across at her. "I'm sorry he won't let you take that thing out, I know it sucks to feel so helpless like that." He confided and was rewarded as Claire's eyes opened and her head lolled slightly in the direction of his voice.

"He saved me too you know." Luke continued with a small smile at her attention, fleeting as it was. "Don't think he planned it, not like with you, but still. He could have left me, could have taken what he wanted and killed me like those agents." He shrugged and Claire's eyes closed. He frowned and Sylar watched intently as his eyes drifted to the pack that sat on the bedside table beside her, but his eyes dropped again dismissing whatever idea had occurred to him. "It's still better than what they would have done with you wherever they were planning on taking you. Probably would have dissected you, locked you up, tested you and all that." He added offhand, staring at the slow steady rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe against the drugs.

Claire made a feint sound in response to that, which sounded distinctly negative and Luke looked up a small smile forming on his lips. "At least with him we're safe... well safer. I mean he has so many abilities," Luke grinned wistfully, "you probably know, but for me, I'd never seen anyone do anything like them, never knew there were more of us. Then he just walks into my house, with so many of them, and he knows how to use them, I mean really use them. I'd kill for control like that, for even half of what he's got. But then I guess that's how he got that way, he thought the same thing." Luke flopped back on the bed and stared across at her. "Maybe that's why I'm alive, maybe I remind him of who he was." He turned away.

"I still don't get why he went back for you. He even detoured from his plan, and the man's a planner. Delayed the big family reunion the minute he saw your name on that screen." Luke rolled over propping himself up onto his elbow. "Not that I'm blaming him, not really." Luke nodded gently, his eyes scanning every inch of her fully clothed form. "Just seems strange, you are kinda young for him. And he doesn't really strike me as the romantic type." He blew out the air from between his lips with frustration, "so probably I'm just missing it. Hell for all I know your important to someone out there with the S.W.A.T. team button. Maybe it's leverage, but then why would you be trussed up just like the rest of us?"

Claire's hands moved and Luke's eyes turned to them, watching as she fisted one ever so slightly. "Huh." He muttered. "Something I said pissed you off?" he reasoned, quietening a moment to think. "Ah well, maybe he'll explain it after he's found his dad. Who knows maybe you can, he can't leave you like that forever, at least I don't think he can."

Sylar had heard enough, he opened the door with his mind and stalked back inside. Luke glanced up at him from the bed, trying to look as innocent as possible. Sylar grinned at him and tossed him the bag of donuts; he'd done well after all. Luke grinned and delved into the bag, Sylar was even feeling generous enough that he didn't protest when he pulled out the glaze with sprinkles and proceeded to devour it before tossing him the bag back.

"Shouldn't we feed her?" Luke asked quietly, indicating Claire with a wave of his hand. "I mean at least give her water or something?"

Sylar sat down on the end of the bed and picked up the chocolate coated donut, eating it with measured bites before he answered. "Claire's body doesn't need food and water. Eventually it will shut down, but it won't take much to revive it." He added watching intently as that hand she had flexed earlier with Luke did so again, and her eyes slit open a fraction trying to locate him.

"So what you're going to wait until she starves to death?"

"No." Sylar replied smoothly. "She'll die of dehydration long before that; particularly with that drug carving up her metabolism." Luke eyed him suspiciously.

"You must really hate her." Luke observed.

"Monster." Claire's cracked voice was reed like in its quality but it reached them both as they turned to stare at her. Sylar grinned; pleased she could understand enough of what was happening around her to comment on it.

"I am what her precious family made me." Sylar replied unable to keep the anger from his voice. "But I don't hate you Claire." He added lowering his voice to give her name that caress it always deserved. He reached out and brushed her hand, picking it up in one of his much larger ones. "I'll make you a deal Claire, seeing as you understand so well." He offered quietly tracing his index finger along each of hers. "I'll take out the tube long enough for you to eat, drink and use the bathroom. But if you utter a single word..." he lowered his face to hers, those dull green eyes meeting his, "one word." He promised, "And I'll let you waste away, leave you trapped, helpless, lifeless like this, forever." Her fingers tightened in his hand, gripping on to his with almost no strength, but it was enough.

Without hesitation he tore the tube from her nose and gripped her hands in his, watching her intently as her eyes opened fully, her head rolled first one way then the other, she moaned lightly, but nothing else, no syllables. Her breathing grew steadier, longer and her skin tone took on its usual golden quality, even her hair seemed to pick up an extra sheen, and her hands gripped his as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. Sylar stared intently at her, Claire, fully awake, fully healed no trace of the drug in her system stared back. The expression on her face was a mixture of his favourites, fear and indignant anger.

Wordlessly he dropped her hands and waved his hand, the bag containing what was left of breakfast flew at her, she caught it smoothly. Her mouth opened and he raised an eyebrow, she shut it, and opened the bag, pulling out a jam donut and hastily occupying her mouth with it. He smirked and turned collecting his coffee from the table he'd placed it on, half empty now, but still warm, he took a sip and held it out to her. Claire looked from the coffee to him, lingering on his lips a moment, before she swallowed the last mouthful of donut and took it, downing it quickly, despite the fact that it was still hot.

Luke moved and drew her eyes, she stared at him briefly and Sylar could practically see her need to speak boiling to the surface.

"Claire this is Luke. Luke, Claire." He introduced them.

Luke jerked his head in greeting. "Lo." He muttered, not quite meeting her eyes, apparently he'd lost whatever confidence he'd found when talking to her doped form. She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, but apparently Sylar wasn't any better so she looked over at the bathroom. Sylar stood and waved his hand, giving her permission to go. Claire slid gracefully off the bed and walked slowly with measured steps to the bathroom.

"Leave the door open." He called after her, her shoulders tensed and she paused for a moment, before she pulled open the bathroom door and went inside, leaving it half open. Sylar's sensitive ears tracked her progress, enjoying the way her hands fumbled for the taps as they shook. He waited until she was inside the shower before he turned back to Luke.

"Neat."

Sylar shrugged and leant back on the bed against the headboard, waving the newspaper towards himself, before stretching out to read it, as he tossed the remnants of the bag back to Luke who devoured the remaining donuts with gusto.

It was a full twenty minutes before Claire stepped back into the room, the large black t-shirt he'd bought from the truck stop drowning her as she combed her fingers through wet hair; her slightly long jeans trailing over her bare feet. Sylar smirked; she barely even looked like the old Claire... pity. She stopped and stared from the doorway at him, her eyes flicking briefly to the motel room door and back to the drug pack on the bedside table. Sylar closed the paper and dropped it on the bed beside him.

"We have a long day Claire." He swung his legs down from the bed and crossed the short distance to her, watching her as she watched him, her eyes hovering on his arms, he frowned glancing down at them, before realising that it was probably the first time she'd seen him in any way but fully clothed, the dark vest and tight black jeans were probably throwing her. He towered over her, impressed that she didn't shrink back, there was a time she would have, but her breathing was carefully measured now as she tried to control her reaction. He waved the box over catching it deftly and holding it in his hands as he stared down at her unable to keep the small smile from his lips as her eyes shone more brightly staring at it. She opened her mouth to say something before thinking better of it; instead she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. "Good girl." He soothed before grasping the back of her head and pulling her forwards. Of course it was too good to last, she panicked, her hands went out to his chest shoving him.

"No!" she hissed, before he managed to clamp his ability down around her throat, silencing her and immobilising her flailing form. His eyes narrowed as he lifted her off the ground to his own eye level.

"Claire," he sighed shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "Claire, Claire, Claire." He continued, enjoying the way her name on his lips caused her to flinch. "I was good to you. I gave you food, coffee, let you freshen up. We had a deal." He leant in close, as her tears started to fall, sliding down her cheeks in streaks that only seemed to spur her anger further. He tightened his hold on her as she attempted to thrash. "You broke that deal." He sighed, scolding her like she was an errant two year old.

"Now I know I can't trust you, give me one good reason why I should ever take you off this thing again?" he raised an eyebrow at her, not releasing his grip so that she could speak; it was rhetorical anyway. "I know what they put in this concoction of yours, this one in particular is especially designed with you and your ability in mind. I can get the drugs, make it myself, I never have to let you off it again." Claire squeezed her eyes shut tightly in an attempt to stop more tears, she apparently succeeded because when she opened them her eyes were shining but nothing leaked free. Her green orbs locked on his, searing him with the intensity he wanted.

"Maybe you could give her one more chance?" Luke spoke up, Sylar watched Claire's eyes snap to the boy they'd both almost forgotten was there. Her eyes returned to his and for a moment he saw the desire to beg rise, before she squashed it. He smirked, close.

"Perhaps I was too strict." Sylar replied finally. "Silence was never something you did particularly well." He admitted. "I'd remove your tongue to help you with that, but we both know how that would go." He grinned darkly at her and she narrowed her gaze hatefully at him. "Fine, Luke here seems to be vouching for you." He replied thoughtfully. "So I'll make an amendment to our deal. You get another chance. You may speak to answer questions I put to you, and nothing else." He leant in closer to her, so that she could read the truth in his eyes as she hung in the air clutching her throat.

"But if you utter another word when I haven't asked for it, I'll remove Luke's tongue and feed it to you." Her eyes widened and Luke spluttered behind him, but wisely he said nothing. He dropped her roughly, releasing her from his invisible bindings so that she dropped to the floor, she remained there, sat with hateful bleary eyes trained on him. "Tell me Claire. Does that sound fair?"

Claire nodded and he grinned. "I asked you a question Claire," he spat out at her, punctuating each word slowly for her. "Does that sound fair?"

"Yes." She whispered, her voice stronger than he expected it to be, but he noticed she didn't try to meet Luke's eyes, she wasn't confident it was a promise she could keep. It was almost his favourite thing about her, the need to protect others, even at her own expense, he hated heroes, but in her it was almost cute, in a misguided sort of way, he'd fix that.

"Then stand up and let me put this back on you. I'd hate for you to be tempted into doing something you'd regret on the journey." He held a hand out to her which she ignored with a sharp glare before climbing to her feet. He suppressed a laugh, on anyone else this could have been dull, but then no one else had eyes quite as expressive as hers, no one could glare quite like Claire. She stood firmly in front of him, back ram rod straight, her chin raised in mild defiance. He gripped her by it and jammed the tube back into her nose, the drug was slow to take effect he noted, it was a full minute before her legs gave out and her head lolled back, her eyes closing. He held her upright, supporting her non-existent weight with one arm.

"Did you mean it?" Luke asked quietly, eyeing the girl who held his right to speak as well.

Sylar quirked an eyebrow at him, his upper lip lifted and Luke paled. "Don't worry, Claire's a stubborn little thing, with a martyr like streak running through her veins, just like her dear Uncle Peter. I'm sure she'll behave." Luke looked thoroughly unconvinced as he wordlessly gathered their few things from the room, before following him out to the car.


	2. Control is Everything

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 2: Control is Everything**

They drove straight through the day, until the light began to fade and hunger pangs began to kick in, he checked the map, they were a little way off the motel he planned on, they'd have to stop before that. Half hour later as he pulled into the road side diner he glanced back at Claire laying across the back seat, he considered the pros and cons of simply locking her in the boot, as he scanned the parking lot, it wasn't even remotely full, but there was enough life to make it an unnecessary risk.

After all most people found it hard to ignore it when girls were bundled into boots, especially ones that looked like Claire. He sighed, shutting off the engine and reaching behind to pull the tubes from her nose. He waited patiently, trying to ignore the way Luke began to fidget nervously, his jaw working overtime as he tried to shrink his tongue as far back into his mouth as possible without choking on it. Claire opened her eyes and sat up slowly; she swallowed a few times and cricked her neck, before she glanced around at the surroundings.

"This is your second chance Princess." He told her softly, "And I know Luke here is anxious that you not screw it up." She glanced at Luke who gave her a pleading look that she had to turn away from, with a curt nod. "Great. I'm starving." Sylar declared, shoving the door open and jumping out, Luke joined him quickly; whilst Claire cast one mildly curious look about the car, before she slid out. Luke headed in first, but Claire hung back, until he turned his dark eyes on her, she moved forward, her arms crossed firmly across her chest as he walked beside her.

Inside Luke had found a booth, Sylar ushered Claire silently into the corner against the wall and slid in next to her. He didn't really expect her to make a dash for it, but then she was unpredictable, it was possible that noble streak in her had faded since her father's had turned on her. After all if she ran, he'd be forced to slaughter everyone here to stop the story leaking out, before he caught up with her.

Luke picked up a menu and began to study it intently, trying not to look like he was staring at her over the top of it after every other word. Sylar handed Claire one and glanced down at his own. The waitress bustled up beside them; clearly she had only just started the nights shift because she was still light on her feet and still had an easy smile for him. He smiled back widely.

"Hey there, I'm Linda and I'll be your waitress." She smiled at him again, a little colour rising to her cheeks as his lips curved up in response. It was strange just how much more people found you attractive when you stopped giving a shit what they thought. As Gabriel he wouldn't have caused this mildly attractive young woman to bat an eyelid at him, but as Sylar he got the impression he could have crooked a finger at her and she'd have bent to his will. It wasn't purely aesthetic either, granted as Sylar his style was easier, Gabriel's overly neat hair and suit were gone, as were the glasses, but it was definitely more in the way he carried himself that seemed to get the response. Either way, it was just another weapon, one he had been pleased to find he could wield well enough.

"Hello Linda." He replied smoothly and her grin widened to show her teeth.

"What can I get you?" she pulled the pad from her apron and waited, her eyes falling onto Luke briefly before hovering a moment longer on Claire. Sylar watched her mentally take in the pretty young blonde beside him with a slight flicker of a frown, after all Claire barely looked sixteen in her oversized t-shirt without makeup.

"My sister was wondering if you had any herbal tea, it wasn't on the menu." Her face instantly lightened as her unspoken judgement was proved false.

"Oh I'm sorry dear, no." She addressed Claire who looked up having the good sense to keep her face blank, she nodded and returned her eyes to the menu.

Sylar laughed lightly. "Teenagers." He shrugged. "I'll have a coke and the steak, rare." He closed the menu.

"Coke." Luke added when she turned to him, "With the Mexican burger."

"And you doll?" Linda looked pointedly at Claire, who kept her eyes on the menu.

"Claire." Sylar prodded, "She asked you a question, what do you want?" he snapped, rolling his eyes apologetically at Linda, which earned him a knowing smile.

"Lemonade." She replied; she gave Sylar a slight glance as the waitress looked down to write and he grinned at her. "And the chicken pasta please." The waitress nodded.

"No problem, won't be long, you need anything just give me a shout." She turned and walked away, causing Claire to visibly relax now there was no risk of her accidentally answering a question she wasn't permitted to.

Luke's mood improved dramatically when his food arrived and he began chatting about what he should have been doing in school, and a movie he'd seen advertised on a poster on the way here. Claire sat quietly as they spoke, to her credit she wasn't pushing the food around on her plate as he'd expected, she ate it all and sat with her head propped up by her hand, resting her palm beneath her chin and staring out of the window when she was done.

"How was your meal Claire?" he asked her pointedly, drawing her head back around to him. She seemed to consider ignoring his question, but he hadn't been clear as to whether not answering a direct question would invite the same punishment.

"Fine." She snapped. He smirked, supposing a 'thank you' had been optimistic.

The waitress returned beaming at their empty plates, and even more so at him when he slid an arm around his sullen but still beautiful, little sisters shoulders and asked her if she wanted ice cream. Claire hadn't dared try to shrug him loose, but she went unnaturally still, before nodding.

"Great." Sylar turned smiling back at the waitress, "Three sundaes."

"Chocolate or strawberry?"

"Any chance we could get a mix?" He grinned that winning smile, showing his teeth, if she'd had any survival sense at all it should have sent her scurrying, instead she leaned closer, conspiratorially.

"I'll see what I can do." She whispered before sashaying away with a warm smile for him.

"Is there anyone you can't get to do what you want?" Luke asked but he was clearly admiring that particular talent rather than bitching.

Sylar smirked and looked pointedly at Claire. "Claire used to give me some bother, but it seems I've found the trick to it." Claire pursed her lips, not rising to it and Luke paled realising that it wasn't in his best interest to have Sylar provoke her into saying something. She stood up and looked pointedly at the restroom.

"Need to go somewhere?" Sylar smirked at her.

She raised an eyebrow at him with a suppressed roll of her eyes. "I have to pee." She glared at him with a hand on her hip until he slid from his seat. He followed her of course, he didn't need to check he could hear that there was no one inside, and if she tried to go anywhere other than a stall he'd know. Leaning back against the wall he crossed his arms, enjoying the way she slammed the door open and stalked inside.

She washed up and paused momentarily he tensed, despite his words he didn't want to kill the entire diner, he might have been a killer but he preferred to kill for a more of a reason than proving a point to a teenage girl. Claire was a smart girl though, her feet moved towards the door and he pushed off the wall with his foot, she didn't even slow down, and he trailed her back into the restaurant with a smirk. He almost ran into the back of her as she stopped dead staring back across at the table.

"Looks like your leverage ran off." She quipped speaking out, before turning around to smirk back up at him. Sylar ignored her outburst for a moment and focused on the empty seat. He glanced over at the waitress, he didn't want to create a scene, and a missing boy would do just that. He spared a moment to consider that maybe Luke had fallen prey to another predator, he assumed there probably were a few lurking behind the steering wheels outside, before he tuned into his hearing.

He grasped Claire under the arm and as discreetly as possible dragged her back to the table, slamming money down, including an overly generous tip in the hopes the waitress would overlook their unusual exit before dessert. He even paused to give her a short wave and smile, although it was unnecessary Claire was being unusually cooperative, she even smiled pleasantly, perhaps her mood had just improved. Sylar listened intently as he opened the car door and pushed Claire inside, before climbing in himself, he could hear Luke talking to the man that had picked him up, by the sounds of the engine he was in a truck. He started the car and listened, they were heading east, probably towards the highway. He sighed and sat back in the chair, Claire was watching him intently, waiting.

"You're not going after him?" she asked quietly. Sylar didn't respond as he pulled the car out onto the road, deliberately turning in the opposite direction to the way he knew Luke had gone.

"No." He replied finally after they had been going a few minutes. "I kind of liked the kid. Would have been a waste to kill him, he has such potential." He smirked at her and turned back to the road. "And I have no doubt that you would have forced me to kill him in the end, you never were a team player."

"I would have forced you?" she grit out through her teeth in disbelief.

He glared back across at her, "Yes." She opened her mouth to argue and instead let out a bark of almost hysterical laughter before falling silent, slumped in the seat. He considered forcing the tubing down her nose, but she seemed happy not to talk to him; of course it had never really been about keeping her silent... now he'd need something else to control her.

He stopped at the nearest motel, Claire waited calmly beside him as he paid for a room, a single; her eyes flashed to his with that and he suppressed the smirk; looked like he'd found his new thing. She was far more hesitant now and he had to exert a little extra force with his ability to get her through the door. She stumbled into the room, catching herself on the flimsy table as she spun to face him. He eyed the one bed and turned back to her with a feral grin, for the first time since he'd taken her from the hanger, she backed away from him. But she didn't raise her hands to ward him off, didn't plead or beg, just stood warily facing him, waiting to see what he would do. So she had learnt after all.

"Are you afraid of me Claire?" he prodded amused.

"Yes." She snapped, not in the slightest bit bothered to admit it. "But wasn't that point?"

"Usually." He replied eyeing her with growing curiosity, was it possible that she could have changed that much in such a relatively short amount of time? Granted what had happened to her in that short amount of time was hardly minor. "Tell me Claire, why is it you think I rescued you?"

"Is that what you did?" he remembered her sarcasm, even appreciated it at times, now wasn't one of them.

"I'm curious Claire." He stepped forward and she took another step back. "Humour me. After all I did save all those others trussed up beside you. That's got to be worth something."

"How should I know what goes on inside your head?" she spat, growing visibly more uncomfortable with every minute of his forced company.

"Maybe I just missed you." She stared coolly at him, the flicker of disgust at his insinuation enough to spark the new game.

"Don't play with me Sylar, I know that much about you. This is just another one of your sick games." He couldn't help but grin at her, he was so damn proud; he'd got the scared little invincible cheerleader to this point where she was beginning to understand the monster, her monster.

"Sometimes I wonder if your Daddy created me just for you. His own personal demon, something to scare you straight, to keep you close." Her eyes widened, "Something he could protect you from. So he could be the hero." He smirked at the sick look that crossed her face, it was telling that she hadn't dismissed it out of hand as she would have once done. "Tell me Claire, if I offered you that choice again, Daddy or Granny, would you change it?"

Claire didn't answer, at least not the question he wanted. "At least I know what my father is, both of them." She sneered, "Way I hear it, the jury's still out on yours." She laughed at the surprised look on his face, she'd managed to say something with real sting. "Tell me Sylar." She threw his own words back at him, taunting, "what will you do if your father turns out to be normal, ordinary, or worse... a good man?" She grinned at him as he felt sparks shoot from his fingers, "who will you blame for your own monsters then?"

Electricity shot from his hand like a beam straight at her heart, lit her up burning a hole straight through her shirt. She didn't scream, even he'd screamed when Elle had unleashed the full force of her rage on him. He raised his other hand letting it coarse through her, she grinned; the little bitch actually grinned at him as she fried. He stopped and she fell forward, her muscles unlocking as she staggered to stay upright, her skin healing before his eyes.

"You don't feel it anymore do you?" he asked pointedly, when he had regained control, no one had the power to get under his skin quite like her, although Angela and Elle had given it a good go.

"No. You stole it." Sylar stared at her, the hatred coursing through her was intense, he could feel it blister him from across the room; it was exquisite.

"Fraid not." He replied, watching intently as her skin healed over, returning to that golden hue he was so fond of. She shot him a look that said distinctly 'don't patronise me'. He held his hands up in defence. "Honestly, I simply learnt your ability, the rest, whatever it was, was all you." She looked a little put out by that statement, he could tell she believed him, but she really didn't want to, it was so much easier to blame the serial killer.

"It does make sense though." He continued, enjoying that wide eyed confusion that was spreading over her features, he couldn't help but grin at her, the compulsion to touch her grew. He ignored it, focusing instead on her face, on those wide green eyes. "That you would lose the ability to feel pain. After all, what good is it to someone that can heal any injury?" Her mouth set in a determined line and he found his feet moving against his command until he was close enough to her that he could have shared the same breath if he'd wanted. His index finger raised and he watched in mild fascination as he drew it along her bottom lip. Claire responded as he expected, as he almost wanted, she smacked his hand away and glared soundly at him.

"Don't touch me!" she spat, trying to move around him. He felt her hands connect with his chest, trying to put enough weight behind them to rock him enough that she could get aside. His hands flew up and grasped hers, pinning them to his chest with his much larger ones; she looked up and seemed to freeze. "Please." She opened her mouth and he bent his head causing her to draw in a shaky breath, as her whole body seemed to begin to tremble, the stubble on his cheek brushed hers and he was forced to close his eyes at the sensation.

"Let me go." Her voice was little more than a whisper, imploring yet somehow defiant. He couldn't, wouldn't; she was too much, too good to pass up, his arguments to Luke fell on deaf ears now, he wanted the little cheerleader to scream, it didn't much matter how, so long as she did it for him. The new game fluttered on the edges of his consciousness forming into an idea of how the game and his new goals could coincide. He lifted her hands up by the wrists and drove her back forcefully into the wall, the plaster groaned but it remained intact.

"Want to make a new deal Claire?" his grin didn't waver as she stared up at him, her face registering all the conflicting emotions that raced through her, fear, anger, revulsion, despair. He leant closer pushing his larger, longer body into her soft curves until he could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

"What will you give me, to stop me from touching you for the next 24 hours?" Her mouth opened and closed, as a tear dropped down her cheek, she was really such a beautiful girl he mused, brushing the tear from her cheek, especially when she cried. But she wasn't the plucky girl he'd chased at homecoming, the terrified teenager he'd attacked in her house, or even the steely young woman he'd tormented at Primatech. This Claire was something new, something colder, stronger and infinitely more broken than those girls could ever have been.

"What would it take?" coolly delivered, her eyes boring into his until he felt the mildest tingle of a challenge being made. He didn't answer, letting the silence grow between them until it became something palpable and her heart rate increased another notch. Sylar grinned letting his intention lie plainly on his face as he lowered his head to hers, his lips inches from hers, so that he could inhale every shaky breath she made.

"This." He whispered, enjoying how his voice vibrated through her chest, further increasing her sharp breathing. Her eyes widened, perhaps she'd thought he was bluffing, that he couldn't possibly want anything physical from her, he pressed her hands at the wrists further into the wall either side of her head. Those green orbs had darkened, taking on a fleck of golden brown as her anger blossomed that step further into loathing, his lower half stirred at that look; that anyone could feel so much for him was almost welcome.

Sylar spared her one last look before he closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to hers, the moment their lips connected he felt a jolt deep in his gut, it didn't matter that she was pressing her lips closed, or that she was trying to turn away, in that moment he felt the connection between them. He opened her mouth for her with a gentle nudge from his mind and swept his tongue inside, the soft warmth of it drew him closer, she squirmed and he dropped his hands from her wrists, holding them pinned with his mind instead. Leaving his hands free to take hold of her face, to hold her steady so that his mouth could continue to explore hers. He hadn't expected to enjoy it so much, nor that her protests would bother him quite so much, he wanted her to respond, to touch her tongue to his and explore his mouth.

"Kiss me." He commanded, pulling back just long enough to see her face twist with disgust, but it was one of the things he enjoyed so much about tormenting Claire, he never needed to explain, or to expand on a point. The unspoken threat remained just that; she didn't need him to rasp all the dark and terrible things he'd do to her if she didn't, between them it was already implied. He made it easier on her fragile sensibility, lowering his mouth to hers again so that she wouldn't have to take the initiative.

Her lips moved against his and he cradled her face in his hands, running them through to her hair, the moment her angry tongue met his he had to contain the moan that he wanted to release into her mouth, settling instead on pressing himself closer. Claire gasped, almost pulling her mouth away in surprise, before he captured it again, she tensed until her whole body was almost rigid, clearly she could feel his masterful erection pressed against her stomach, constrained only by his jeans. He sucked on her lower lip, trying not to grin, for such an attractive girl, she was still incredibly naive, he imagined she thought that men needed more than just seeing a girl, just the touch of her mouth to cause such a reaction. Sylar ground his hips against her, delighting in the way her whole body tried to arch away, the way her wrists struggled against invisible bindings.

"You promised." She gasped out, finally freeing her mouth from his insistence. "We had a deal." Her voice had taken on a slightly breathy quality, his newly stoked desires took it as further invitation, whilst the cool logical part of his brain, the part that understood the girl in front of him, quietly reminded him that she was not the slightest bit turned on by this.

Sylar delved into her mouth, not giving her chance to say anything else as his hands took the initiative, running down her slender back to curl around her waist and lift her slightly, giving his neck a break as he pressed her back further into the wall. He was never a passionate man, had never lusted after women the way some men would and his experiences were still woefully minimal with the opposite sex. Elle had probably been the longest relationship he'd ever had, and that had turned out so well... the thought of Elle flooded him with white hot rage, 'damn her, the little bitch' he snapped internally, slamming Claire back into the wall with renewed ferocity as he attacked her mouth, sliding one leg between hers to support her. He didn't want to think about Elle, didn't want to remember her not now, not when he had Claire, his sweet, precious little cheerleader; she had always been the prize; Elle had been nothing, a moment of weakness.

But Claire... he groaned into her mouth not able to contain just what she was doing to him with her quiet protests, her soft body moving against him was starting to test the limits of his control. But he had to, with momentous effort he pressed one last kiss against her and pulled away from her mouth, resting his head on top of hers instead, keeping her body close. She was right of course, they had a deal, it would benefit no one if he broke it, if he forgot the game; it was the only way to keep her.

"A deal is a deal Claire." He rasped dropping a kiss to her head, "The next 24 hours you're perfect little body is safe from the big bad monster that wants to devour it!" She flinched in his grasp and he chuckled lightly, it was almost too easy to press her buttons. He loosened his grip on her and she wasted no time putting distance between them, until she was leaning against the small table, gripping it as if for support. He smirked watching her but she refused to meet his eyes, he thought he preferred this game to the last one, he got the added bonus of her silence anyway.

Sylar dropped onto the edge of the bed wearily facing her and undid his jeans, pulling himself free as he fisted his erection.

"You don't mind do you Claire." He laughed gently at her horrified look before she spun to face the wall; he laughed again, his eyes not leaving the curve of her ass that she had so thoughtfully left facing him. Claire shuddered with every gasp he made, her body tensing in ways that made the view all the more enjoyable, even clothed in baggy jeans as she was.

"You're sick." Claire's voice filtered through his panted breaths and if possible he felt his balls tighten further just at the soft sound.

"What can I say," he gasped his body tensing as he worked himself roughly imagining that mouth around him, those small soft hands grasping him instead of his large one. "you bring out the best in me Claire." He groaned out her name, shuddering his release as he spurted into his hand, not caring where it went. Sylar lay back on the bed bringing his breathing back to normal, Claire hadn't moved and he noted that her knuckles had gone white with the force she was using to grip the table edge. He slid off the bed and stalked up behind her, she jumped slightly when his breath fanned out over her ear.

"If I was really the monster you believed I was, I wouldn't have needed to deal with that myself," he dropped his clean hand to her back and ghosted it down between her shoulder blades to the curve in her lower spine, forcing her to arch in an attempt to get away, "I'd have taken what I wanted from you Claire," he let his lips brush the lobe of her ear and she closed her eyes tightly, "and believe me Claire, I wanted it." She bowed her head and he watched the tears slide free, he closed his hands into fists, resisting the urge to brush them away and suck his thumb into his mouth after. "I need a shower Claire." He told her pointedly, she glanced at the bathroom, then back across at the motel room door frowning.

"Then have one." She muttered sullenly.

"So do you." He continued, he couldn't help grinning down at her when her irritated eyes met his; but she wasn't slow and she seemed to understand the way he liked to torment her. "Get in." He hissed, her eyes widened momentarily before she straightened her back and glared soundly at him, he'd need to drug her tonight he realised amused, or he'd likely wake up in pieces.

Claire stalked towards the bathroom with determination, he admired that, not so long ago she probably would have sobbed until he was forced to drag her in; slowly he followed her, closing the bathroom door behind them. Sylar pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the railing, before crossing his arms and leaning back against the door. Claire stood in the centre of the fairly disgusting bathroom; the bravado seeming to desert her as she refused to look at him.

"Get undressed." He added helpfully, ignoring the pained look she shot him, but she made no move to. He raised a hand flicking his index finger and her jeans unbuckled, causing her to gasp. "Undress or I'll do it for you... I said I wouldn't touch you, fortunately I don't have to." She raised her chin and gave him a withering look, before she tugged at her t-shirt, he expected more of a protest, but as her top came up over her head, revealing her unadorned breasts he found that sometimes surprises were welcome. His dark hungry eyes took in the soft expanse of flesh as she stood there cringing but refusing to cover herself as he'd expected her to try to; a small embarrassed flush coloured her chest, but it passed and her expression turned stony.

"Enjoying yourself?" she spat as she tugged at the waistband of her jeans.

"Immensely." He admitted, amused to find it wasn't a lie; who knew teenagers could be so entertaining. His grin widened as she kicked off the legs of her jeans and stood stock still in the centre of the room, utterly naked; he should have done this years ago he mused.

He cocked his head to the shower; Claire gave the filthy mould ridden thing a cursory glance before stepping into it and attempting to pull the curtain across. He blocked the movement and tore the curtain from its hooks from his position across the room, dropping it to the floor beneath instead. Claire rolled her eyes at him, before she twisted the knobs until water began to flow; Sylar watched with interest as she began to visibly relax, despite his presence, just enjoying the feel of the water. Droplets ran through her wet hair and down across her small pert breasts. He stiffened at the sight and glanced down mildly amused by his own bodies reaction, especially so soon; she turned her back to him in the shower, reaching for the soap as she worked it into a lather before running her hands across her body.

He couldn't help himself, his mind leapt out and snaked around her waist; she let out a slight shriek, spinning to face him with a look of outrage and panic. But he was still by the door and he opened his hands wide to exaggerate it, even as his mind slid across the flat plane of her stomach.

"Stop it." She hissed, taking a step back in the shower so that she was almost touching the grimy wall behind. His invisible hands raised and he brushed across her nipples, her hands flew up grasping her own breasts in shock. "Please." She pleaded, "Just stop." The quiet desperation almost made him, but the way her eyes flashed with pure rage and despair when she felt him brush her thighs was too much, it was far more fun to push.

He did just that and she bucked at the feel of something between her legs, her fearful eyes snapped to his as she tried to fight, only there was nothing there. Sylar focussed intently on his ability and pushed, her mouth fell open in a faint 'oh' and she bucked, bracing her hands on the wall for support; he grinned slipping out of his jeans and letting them fall to a puddle on the floor. For a moment Claire seemed to forget the feel of invisible hands and fingers pushing inside of her, she simply stared at the sight of him naked leaning against the door as he focused on her. He would have given a great deal in that moment for telepathy, as her eyes widened taking in his erection, before travelling lightly along his flat stomach to narrow waist, and the dusting of hairs across his chest, before going back to the thick patch between his legs.

He'd expected her to sneer, to grin, to make a comment, only she seemed speechless he pushed inside of her again with his mind and she twisted trying to lessen the intensity; but her eyes never left his member, which was throbbing now at the thought of that tight heat between her legs. Was this rape? There would be no evidence of it after all, no DNA, no bruises, he wondered quietly to himself as he increased the intensity of his pulsing mental thrusts until he pushed through her barrier, taking himself once more in hand, Claire resolutely looked away, staring at the ceiling as her body arched and bucked in time to his invisible rhythm; her breathing starting to come in short bursts.

He'd never tried something quite so sustained as mentally fucking someone and whilst it drew his concentration to the limit he found that it was worth it, just to watch her come apart, without having to lay a hand on her. He felt a moment of pity for her when she clenched her jaw, refusing to cry as her hands screwed into fists as she fought the inevitable, he focused his attention on the tight ball of nerves at her centre, twisting and manipulating them until she let out a choked sob and convulsed.

His hand was a mess again, his dick now flaccid and aching slightly as he levered himself off the door, Claire had wrapped her arms around herself finally and was looking at her feet as quiet tears streamed down her face. Sylar stepped up to the shower standing directly in front of her, shame filled him, before he squashed it, he'd made his choice, chosen to stop fighting what he was, what he had become; he was a monster. He stepped aside and waved his hand opening the bathroom door.

"Go." He snapped, annoyed at how distorted his voice sounded with the conflicting emotions that raged through him. Claire didn't hesitate, she ran from the bathroom and into the room, he tracked her progress with his hearing, as she reached the far wall, dropping her forehead against it she slid to the floor and began to sob. His gut twisted unpleasantly and he tried to ignore the whisper of Gabriel inside, he kept a tight mental grip on the motel room door as he showered quickly, but it was unnecessary, she didn't move from the spot in the corner of the room against the wall. When he re-emerged from the shower she refused to look at him, choosing instead to pull her knees up to her chest and rest her head against them. He threw her a towel which she snatched up and wrapped around her shoulders. He left her to her own devices as he pulled a pair of slacks from out of the small duffel back he'd kept with him, pulling on a vest before he dropped onto the bed; he hadn't bothered to pay the extra for a room with a TV, but at her quiet sniffling he wished he hadn't been quite so cheap.

"Dry yourself off Claire." He snapped finally, staring across at her, rolling her eyes at the way she jumped at the sound of his voice. "We have another long day tomorrow, I need to sleep."

Claire raised her head and gave him another of those patented glares, well at least pissing her off stopped the sniffling he noted. She climbed to her feet and disappeared into the bathroom, not even bothering to try and shut the door, before emerging fully dressed, her hair curling lightly as it dried naturally.

Sylar stepped up from behind her his hands grasping her head as he jammed the tube up into her nose, she struggled and he held her against his chest until her limbs grew heavy and her head drooped forwards. He lifted her onto the bed, before sliding down beside her, but he kept his word, for whatever it was worth, he didn't ghost his fingers through her hair as he wanted, or press a kiss to her soft pink lips, he simply curled an arm around her midsection to keep her still before closing his eyes.


	3. How to Choose a Monster

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 3: How to Choose A Monster**

Sylar chose not to remove the tubing the next morning, so she slept the sleep of the drugged, not even waking when he lifted her up and dumped her into the car. He drove two hours until he reached a road side diner that looked like it might not have cockroaches and the pies might have real meat in them. Pulling up the car he glanced over at Claire, her eyes were fluttering, but he needed to eat, especially if today was the day he was to meet his father. Sighing he pulled the tube from her nose; he'd also need to stop by a drug store and find more drugs, that or he'd need to run into Nathan's soldier boys again and steal theirs. Those beautiful accusing green eyes of hers opened and fixed on him, he wanted to wipe that look away, replace it with something easier to live with, but that wasn't going to happen.

"Breakfast." He told her bluntly. Claire grimaced, rolling her back until it cricked and stretching slightly until muscles popped.

"Good." She didn't grace him with another word, didn't even spare him a look as she slid from the car, but the slam she gave the door was expressive enough.

Breakfast was easier than their last diner experience, he ordered pancakes, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs; not bothering to give Claire the choice this time, she'd eat what he gave her. She didn't protest and downed her coffee almost as soon as it was placed in front of her, ignoring the fact that it was scalding hot; he'd really need to work on her subtlety if she intended to do that in public.

Perhaps it had been going too well, after all Claire was co-operating, breakfast had been edible, the coffee was pretty good and the sun was shining. He heard the van pull up and the heavy footfalls of boots on the dirt car park out back, the click of rifles being loaded, and the rustle of their flack jackets. He sighed, today of all days they had to make an appearance he glanced across at Claire, her hair was slightly mussed, her face unadorned with makeup and her too large clothing hanging off her. Yet somehow she still seemed to have attracted the attention of some noble, good Samaritan, probably a young hot blooded male... he cussed her face, the pure innocence that radiated in it welcoming men to stare; in no doubt that she was the reason he'd been found.

"You'll be the death of me Claire." He sighed wearily running his hands along the back of the booth as he glanced in the reflection from the windows. Claire placed her fork down and swallowed a mouthful of food.

"Oh?" she only sounded mildly curious; which given the situation irked him. He pointed with his finger to the car park.

"The men in black found us." She froze and he smirked, well at least he hadn't traumatised her too badly, she was still able to react to that at least.

"What do we do?" She clenched her hands together on the table and looked around furtively.

Sylar leant back in the booth, more relaxed than he probably had any right to be. "Well that depends Claire." He sighed and glanced back at the reflection, listening intently as orders rasped out in hushed tones... the Hunter was with them, the head honcho himself!

"On what?" she snapped, genuine fear draining the colour from her face.

"On whether I kill them all and continue on my little journey with you in tow, or" he paused for effect making sure he had her full attention. "Or I give you over to them and make my escape." Claire's eyes widened as the doors burst open and gun fire exploded all around, the diners patrons dived for cover, but they were in no danger, the shots were aimed directly at his head, hers was secondary.

The bullets never reached, nor did their stunners, they hovered immobile he reached out sending each one slamming back where it came from, to the sounds of wet pain filled thuds. He rose from his seat gracefully, spinning around to face their attackers. Danko was in front, Sylar grinned at that, at least the man knew how to lead; he stalked up to him and kicked the gun away from him where he lay prone and bleeding from a shoulder wound and another to the thigh. Some of his boys in black were still moving, he opened his hand lashing them with electricity until they stopped moving, whilst he held Danko pinned.

"Sylar." The Hunter spat, god he liked that name, 'Hunter' it put his own moniker to shame.

"Everyone who can still move OUT!" he bellowed the tone taking on an audible quality that shook the entire place as he reigned in Jesse's ability. The diner staff and patrons fled, non of the stopping to help the armed S.W.A.T. team, not that they could, but still, they didn't even look back as they fled, no doubt trying to block the whole incident out. He waited until the tires squealed and the engines roared to life before he returned his attention to the prone man in front of him. He heard and felt Claire's approach as she came to stand over his shoulder, looking out over the carnage; Danko's eyes rose to her face and he grimaced.

"I should have put a bullet in your head after the crash." He snarled up at her, wincing as the movement cost him. Sylar opened his hand and spread his ability, forcing his joints to stretch into something painful. "Daddy's little Princess." He sneered before he spat at her and Sylar felt rage burst inside of him, he reacted his hand snapped out and backhanded him with enough force to snap his nose; blood poured and his eyes clouded with pain for a moment. Danko turned his attention back to him. "You too?" he laughed, Sylar raised an eyebrow and stared down at the man, "How does she do it... what is it pheromones?" he glared darkly up at Claire and lowered his gaze pointedly, "Or does she just sell those natural assets of hers to the highest bidder?" Sylar grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

"If you have a point make it!" He snapped, losing patience and hating the way rage was building inside of him with every scathing word he aimed at her; he released his throat enough for him to get a few words out along with the lungful of air.

"I just want to know what she did to make Sylar her little lap dog, just like one of those pathetic father figures of hers." Danko grinned and Sylar answered the grin with one of his own that had the older man's fading.

"Fair enough." He added conspiratorially, as he leaned closer. "But I'm fairly certain my incentive was better than theirs." He winked and reached out grasping Claire's hand, dragging her down onto her knees beside them. "I'm curious Claire, what was it you did to make this poor man hate you quite so much?"

Claire glanced down at him, but there was no pity in her stare, it was cold, colder than he had ever seen it. "I crashed his precious plane and we all got free."

Sylar watched Danko for the truth of it. "Is that it?" he directed down at the man; his expression closed off and he looked up at the ceiling, somehow he doubted that was the extent of it, more likely his little outburst about the protected little Princess was closer to the mark.

"Go to hell, kill me, torture me. Get your rocks off however you want; I won't give you a thing." Snapping his mouth shut, permanently Sylar guessed.

"You know." He began tiredly, "You and your boys are just no fun in this department. I mean don't get me wrong, I like dismemberment and evisceration just as much as any serial killer, but it does kind of lack the punch line if the victim isn't pleading for his life; spilling his guts, so to speak." He grinned at his own pun and at the way the Danko's eye twitched slightly in response to the imagery. "You haven't answered my question Claire." He reminded her, she jumped her eyes darting back to his in mild panic. He returned his gaze to Danko's with a smirk.

"You see this is where we find out who the real monster is." The man glared at him, panting slightly against the pain in his body, but refused to open his mouth to comment. "Will Claire choose the serial killer, the monster of her nightmares, the man that stalked her and her ability for 3 long years. Terrorized her adopted mother, forced her family into hiding, killed her best friend in front of her, cracked open her skull and examined her brain, cost her the ability to feel pain?" He paused as Claire closed her eyes looking away, he was impressed to see no tears slipping free. "And of course, killed her biological mother."

Claire shuddered and brought her hands up to her mouth, as if she feared she might be sick; Sylar smirked and looked back at him. "All good times, you see Claire and I have such history." Danko's gaze narrowed at him, perhaps all that hadn't been in the files, because he seemed to give Claire a mildly sympathetic glance. "And then there's the fun we've been having since I rescued her from you and bio-dad." He raised an eyebrow insinuating everything and Danko pursed his lips.

"What's your point?" he snapped, looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to attack, for a chance to put an end to the big bad Sylar once and for all, string him up for all the world to see, give them there dangerous prisoner with abilities.

"Oh it's quite simple really, I'm surprised you haven't realised, but perhaps I need to spell it out, again... must be the blood loss." Sylar grinned and grasped Claire's arm by the bicep, dragging her back to his side. "You see I've done terrible things to our sweet Claire here, and believe me when I tell you, I'm not going to stop, I'll continue to do terrible things to her." Claire flinched, but didn't attempt to pull away.

"Look at him Claire." He instructed and slowly she did as he requested, he grasped her chin holding her gaze where it was. "But I will never kill her." She closed her eyes briefly and a breath of quiet relief escaped her before she opened them again, "Will never let anyone else for that matter. Will never lock her in a windowless cell and experiment on her, suppress her ability, will never betray her like every other man she's ever known." Claire wasn't looking at Danko now, her eyes were fixed on his face and he gave her a half smile running his index finger along the jaw he held firm. "And I will never die on her," Sylar turned his gaze to the injured man, "not if she lives for 500 years... I'll still be there, long after you have turned to dust." Her trembling stilled and he felt satisfaction spread through him. "Answer my question Claire. What should I do?"

Claire turned back to her father's hunter, her hands clenched into fists which she was pushing into her thighs with determination. "You." She replied looking thoroughly disgusted with herself for doing so.

"Speak up Claire." he instructed, "I'm not sure he heard you."

"You!" she screeched and the tears fell causing the demon in him to preen itself with satisfaction. "Take me with you." She spat, falling back onto her ass and drawing her knees up to her chest as he released her face.

Sylar couldn't keep the grin from splitting his face as he turned back to the prone man. "Me." He sneered. "The little cheerleader I terrorised and tormented chooses me over you and your brand of justice." Danko looked sick and it was just the effect he wanted from the cold soldier. He grasped the man by the front of his flack jacket. "Now who's the monster?" he sneered and head butted him soundly with a crack that made him see stars momentarily until it healed; Danko however wasn't so special and slipped unconscious.

Sylar stalked from the restaurant leaving the bleeding unconscious man as he was, Claire followed like a broken little doll behind, he watched her as she slipped wordlessly into the car not looking up from her feet. It wasn't quite how he wanted her, he preferred her fire, but you didn't just tame a girl like Claire, you had to break her, before you could think about teaching her new tricks. He left her waiting in the car, granted having her so docile had its uses he mused, not even bothering to lock the doors around her, as he wrenched open the van Danko and his team had arrived in.

He paused, and glanced back at Claire, before returning his gaze to the form that sat chained and drugged on the bench inside; the situation eerily familiar. Luke's head was bowed, his eyes closed, Sylar jumped inside and ducked down, they'd wrapped his hands in odd looking gloves, he prodded one, confirming his suspicions, lead lined. He pulled up the boys head by his hair, aware that the support team would be winging its way towards them every moment he waited. Not that he was particularly concerned, but he wasn't a fool, if he could avoid the confrontation then there was no risk. He dropped the boys head and wrenched the tube out of his nose, before taking hold of the pack on his chest and pulling it free of the tubing, as he collected the other two that were helpfully waiting on the opposite bench on hooks. He jumped down from the van as Luke started to open his eyes, without glancing back, or waiting he pulled open the trunk of his car and dropped the packs inside, no need to upset her further by displaying them.

Sylar pulled away from the diner watching out of the rear view mirror as Luke stumbled out of the van and on shaking legs turn to watch the familiar car roaring away. It irked to leave a man like Danko alive but it was necessary, if he wanted her to come to rely on him, then he needed a threat, something to protect her from. That and the very idea of Noah's face he reported back to him that his precious Claire had joined up with the one and only Sylar was too good to pass up.

---*---

Claire watched Sylar discreetly, her eyes fixed to the mirror she watched him hesitate at the van door, before hopping out with the drug packs, her chest tightened and she had to force her hands not to shake as he opened the boot dropping them inside in what he clearly thought was a subtle gesture. As the car pulled away she saw the reason for his hesitation stumble out of the van, Luke. Claire had no particular emotion to his re-appearance, after all he'd chosen to go with Sylar, chosen to learn from him, to trust him and he'd chosen to run away.

At least Sylar had taken the drugs off him and given him a chance, was it possible Sylar hadn't lied, was he actually fond of the boy? It didn't matter to her one way or the other, except for the fact that perhaps if Luke had been present Sylar would have spared her more scenes like last night's shower; but then again, maybe not. The memory that she had managed to shove away into a dark corner of her mind reasserted itself and she closed her eyes, trying to force it back down, she'd have plenty of time to dwell on it she was certain, and probably more to add to it by the time Sylar was done with her. No, now she wasn't going to let it in, she'd had a terrible day already and it was only breakfast.

As they drove Claire became aware that Sylar was positively pleased with her, he even stopped once to let her use an actual bathroom instead of the side of the road, and brought her lunch without prompting. She tried not to piss him off and ruin whatever moment he seemed to think had developed between them; it sickened her that she wasn't even able to show what she was really feeling. On top of that the idea that he'd made her choose this only made it so much worse, ordinarily nothing on this planet could have forced her to choose Sylar, but then this wasn't an ordinary situation any of them were in.

She didn't want to die and she was certain Danko would have killed her without hesitation before she even reached Nathan and his prison. Claire tried not to imagine her father's face when he found out, Noah Bennet had spent years protecting her from Sylar, to have her willingly run off with him would quite possibly kill him, that or he'd finally decide she wasn't worth the effort and come after them both guns blazing. It was hard to tell with him, and no matter how much she wanted to, she'd never really understand the man that had raised her, or his motives.

If she was honest, she didn't really give a rat's ass what Nathan thought of her for this, he was less than pond slime in her estimation, Angela was lumped into the same pot. In fact the only Petrelli she was concerned about was Peter, he and Sylar were practically mortal enemies, but would becoming a fugitive change his perspective? Would he understand what she'd done? She sighed, probably not, he'd tell her there was always another choice, that all she had to do was find him and he'd protect her.

Claire glanced across at Sylar he was humming along to the tune on the radio, some country number she wasn't familiar with, for the first time she allowed herself to simply consider him as a man, rather than a monster. If she had to think of him as a monster she'd never survive this, she'd go mad, he had to become something else to her, even superficially. A hero? The idea especially when paired in her head with Peter was almost laughable, and yet... he had saved her, twice now from Nathan's men.

Peter wasn't the man he'd been, he wasn't as powerful, she closed her eyes hating to even think it, but he was never all that good at it either, blundering into situations with hope and passion, and stumbling out mostly intact. Sylar was a stark contrast, he was arguably the most powerful person on the planet, he was ruthless, driven and undeniably smart, he planned and schemed and as far as she could tell he very rarely lost his cool in dangerous situations. Added to that was the way he'd handled the S.W.A.T. team, he'd barely even tried, if there was anyone in this whole fucked up world that could actually follow through on the protection they claimed to want for her, it was him.

Although why he felt compelled to save her in the first place was still a mystery, why he continued to do so was an even bigger one and she suspected one she'd rather not understand.

"Something on your mind?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the road, but clearly aware of her watching him.

"Yes." She replied simply, it was a stupid question, she wasn't an airhead, of course everything that had happened was playing out in her head.

"Try not to be too hard on yourself Claire-bear." He glanced at her, that perpetual grin in place that seemed to liquefy her insides; that combined with her father's pet name had her skin practically crawling. "This is survival, you'll just have to learn to live with morally grey."

"Easy for the psychopath to say." She muttered, hating that he was right.

"I wasn't born this way Claire." She pointedly tried to ignore him, she didn't really want to speak with him, he had a tendency of twisting everything up inside her head. "Not even close, I tried once to end what I was, but fate intervened. And step by morally grey step, I turned into this, it doesn't take much, and every step you take makes it that much easier to pitch forward into the black."

"I won't become like you." She spat, willing it to be the truth; Sylar smirked, she wondered if his head was jingling with the sound of a lie.

He reached out as if to grasp her leg, but stopped, his hand hovering over it, Claire blinked, surprise almost floored her, was he actually honouring their agreement not to touch her? He withdrew his hand and instead she felt a ghostly touch run through her hair, but at least he was trying; it was more than she'd ever dared to hope.

As the journey progressed, Sylar became visibly more anxious; he was swerving erratically, his speed changing constantly and his hands didn't seem able to stay still as they tapped the steering wheel. It took her a while to realise he was anxious; she wanted to ask him if he was alright, not out of courtesy, but curiosity.

"Do you want me to drive?" she settled on a slightly snarky comment instead that would indicate her awareness of his condition without directly asking. Sylar glanced sharply at her, then back at the road.

"No."

"Fine, but we're indestructible, the car isn't." He let out something close to a growl and she decided that was enough conversation; he was clearly wound up, why provoke him.

Ten minutes later to her great surprise he pulled into a layby and got out the car, slamming the door closed behind him and stalking around to her side. Claire took a moment to digest the idea that he was actually acting on her offer before she scooted across the seats to sit behind the wheel as he folded himself into the passenger seat, his dark eyebrows knit together heavily in a frown. Suppressing a small smile of victory she started the engine and slowly pulled out back onto the interstate, of course she had no idea where it was they were going, but she assumed he'd direct her when needed.

Claire drove for the next two hours, listening to his barked instructions whilst he sat, his arms crossed, legs tapping, until they were deep in the wilderness of Minnesota, the roads weren't nearly as good here, but still passable. Sylar pulled out a road map for the first time and began to inspect it as they continued past the lines of forest that seemed to close in all around.

"Where is it we're going?" she asked finally her curiosity winning out. He didn't look up from the map but pointed at a spot in the midst of a whole lot of green. "Why?" Sylar let out a sigh and she briefly considered that perhaps speaking to him wasn't too smart given as he'd expressed the desire for her not to explicitly not so long ago.

"My father is hiding out there." Claire blinked recalling the conversation he'd had with Angela in Primatech, and then the hazy scratches of conversation she'd managed to pull out from her drug induced comas.

"I take it he's not expecting us?" Sylar snorted, which was an answer in itself she supposed. "Does he have an ability?" Finally Sylar raised his head and looked at her, she hastily looked away, there was a feral look on his face that she'd seen only once before and didn't want directed at her again.

"I don't know." He replied finally, but his voice was filled with tension, she didn't claim to be able to read him well, but she was fairly certain that was what it was. "I've never met him, he sold me for money."

Claire swerved the car, giving a yelp she hastily rescued it before she landed them in a ditch. "He sold you?" she asked not able to keep the shock or the horror at the idea from her voice, Sylar or not, it seemed so callous.

"Apparently, to his brother, the man that raised me until he disappeared one night to buy cigarettes and never came back." Claire raised an eyebrow but decided not to comment on the cliché, after all this was perhaps the most Sylar had ever told her about himself. Know your enemy... it was one lesson of her father's she intended to take to heart, after all just because he was being civil now didn't mean he would stay that way.

"Are you going to kill him?" it wasn't an idle question, she had seen more than enough death for one day, if he did intend to she'd rather wait in the car, as she had about zero chance of stopping it.

Sylar quirked an eyebrow at her, seemingly considering it. "I'm going to ask him some questions."

"And if you don't like the answers?" Sylar met her hesitant eyes with his cold ones and she suppressed a shudder, how did someone go so wrong?

"Take this dirt road on the left." He spoke up suddenly and she swung the car in the direction he indicated, not even seeing the gap in the trees until she was right on top of it. The car tires squealed and the front of the car bounced as it hit the new surface, fighting the wheel she brought it back under control ignoring Sylar's eye roll and muttered comment about women drivers. The dirt track led them through the forest, it seemed fairly well maintained, there were no downed trees or huge craters in the road; although she considered the fact that if there were it wouldn't really have mattered with the super powered asshole sat beside her. They made a detour at a crossroads, and left the dirt road, heading in the direction of a wooden house she could make out in the distance.

"Stop here." Sylar instructed as the house came into view, "Back the car up around the bend." He instructed and she did as he requested, pulling the car off to the side where it was concealed from view of anyone within the house. Sylar slipped out of the car and she cut the engine, she climbed out, leaving the door open she tossed him the keys.

"I think I'll stay with the car." She told him pointedly as he plucked the keys out of the air and pocketed them. He raised his hand and she was pushed away from the car door which slammed and locked before she was propelled forward, having to move her feet before she landed face down in the dirt.

"I think you won't." He replied, but there was no smirk this time, he was stood still looking back across at the house. It dawned on her that maybe he didn't really want to do this alone, for someone else she might have felt sympathy, for him she just felt irritation that he'd drag her into this. As he began walking towards the house she realised she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter, so letting out an aggrieved sigh she followed, jamming her hands into her baggy jean pockets and wishing that he'd stop at a mall somewhere, she was tired of looking like a slob, in someone else's clothes. When they reached the drive Sylar paused, his eyes narrowing, Claire followed his gaze and almost did an about turn, there were animals everywhere, dead animals, dead stuffed and mounted animals.

"Gross." She managed to whisper almost under her breath, and was surprised to see Sylar nod imperceptibly, apparently taxidermy wasn't up his street either. The further they got in the more horrific the posed animals became; half of them looked in pain at the moment of death, unnaturally staged into something disturbing.

"I would really like to go back to the car please." She rasped; grasping his forearm and tugging on it slightly; one psychopath was all she could handle. He reached over with his other hand and pulled her loose of his grip, but kept hold of her hand, wrapping it around his and tugging her along until they reached the patio.

"Oh god." Claire gagged and turned away, the garden had just about prepared her, but only just, her lunch roiled around in her stomach unpleasantly for a moment. Claire turned back and glanced once more at the sight before her, it wasn't that she was squeamish, far from it, she'd seen far too much of her own insides to be under any illusions about that. But somehow seeing animals flayed open like this baking in the sun, or strangled in traps spread out all over the porch was somehow worse.

"Suddenly you make more sense." She quipped at Sylar who shot her a look that told her the sentiment was not appreciated, so she bit her tongue against the rest of what she'd planned to say. Sylar stepped up to the door, of course he didn't bother to knock, he wiggled the handle and the door creaked open. Claire felt like she was about to enter the haunted house, only the big strong man she was supposed to cling to was probably far scarier than anything inside, oddly enough the thought was mildly comforting.

"Hello?" Sylar called out, his voice echoing through the wooden corridors. Claire winced and tried not to note that the animal freak show continued inside, crammed into every available orifice. "Mr Grey?" Sylar continued and stepped further into the house, not releasing her hand, ordinarily the feel of his large hand in hers would be enough to make her skin crawl, but right now she was glad of it and found herself squeezing perhaps a little too hard.

There was a sound, like a rubber band being twanged and a whistle of air, Claire flinched her body propelled backwards slightly by the force of something, unable to feel it she took a moment to register the arrow sticking out of her gut. Sylar's hand slipped from hers and he collapsed to the floor, two arrows protruding from his chest, his eyes closed. Movement caught her eye and Claire stood straight, grabbing the nearest object to her, which just so happened to be a walking stick.

A dishevelled looking man in a flannel shirt, khakis, hiking boots, with a scraggly white-grey beard appeared from the back of the house, a rather modern black bow and arrow aimed at her. She dropped the stick and raised her hands.


	4. Father's Day

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 4: Father's Day**

"You've got an arrow in your gut Miss." His voice was broken, he sounded like he barely had the strength to speak, she noticed the mask that hung around his chest and the oxygen tank he was dragging and considered how accurate her estimation had been.

"I noticed." She replied, glancing down at Sylar just in time to see him open his eyes and gasp in a breath. He wrenched the arrows free of his chest with a grunt and jumped to his feet his hand out, just as another volley of arrows was loosed from Sylar Senior. They never made it, Sylar batted them away, sending them flying into the rump of the stuffed deer to the left in what she assumed was the living room, if the sofa was any indication.

"One of those are you then?" Sylar Senior grumbled, lowering his bow and arrow. "Thought you were those damn men in black again." he lowered the bow and arrow heavily and grasped the oxygen mask around his neck and stuffed it over his face, taking a huge lungful of air in.

Claire glanced down at the arrow in her gut and took hold of the shaft, wrenching it free, she'd never been hit with an arrow before and for once she was pleased she couldn't feel it, the skin tore and left a gaping jagged hole as she pulled it free, not pleasant. Dropping it she glanced back up at the two of them, as they visually weighed each other up.

"What do you want?" Sylar Senior snapped, eyeing them with all too familiar eyes, "This is trespassing you know, I was well within my rights to shoot you both."

"Mr Grey?" Sylar asked again, there was bite in his tone this time.

"That's me, Samson Grey."

"Luke Campbell told me where to find you." Sylar added, recognition sparked on the older man's face and he nodded.

"Damn kid, smart though, knew he'd figure I'd be here, should have gone to Canada." He grumbled, not taking his eyes off them, and Claire got the impression that though he looked frail there was danger in that body of his still. "Noticed those fools sniffing around my house a few weeks ago." He lifted up the tank and placed it on the nearest table and leant back against the edge. "Doesn't explain why your here."

"My name is Gabriel Grey." Sylar paused a moment, seeing the name flash in Samson's cold grey eyes and he eased back to his feet.

"Ah." He replied wearily, "Yes, well; that explains it."

"You sold me to your brother, who abandoned me to that sickening woman's care." Claire raised an eyebrow to hear Sylar talk about his mother that way; he had more parental issues than even she did, suddenly his words about how alike they were started to ring true.

"So your here to what? Drag an apology out of an old man; stir up a hornets' nest of memories?" Samson snorted. "Well there it is, I'm sorry, I needed the money, I couldn't take care of you after your mother died, was never much of a steady job person. I thought you'd at least be with family that way." Samson's eyes flickered to her as Sylar seemed to absorb the information, he looked a little forlorn to hear that his mother was dead she realised.

"And you Miss." He indicated his finger at her, "Gabriel here didn't introduce you, you look a little young to be his girlfriend."

Claire blanched at the very thought and looked nervously to Sylar who was still silently scrutinising his father. "Erm no." She replied, not able to keep her disdain for the idea out of her voice. "I'm Claire, he kidnapped me." Samson's eyes widened momentarily and he looked back at Sylar anew.

"Rescued you technically." Sylar corrected, placing a hand on her shoulder, "from the men in black that had kidnapped her."

"Then failed to let me go." Claire muttered.

Sylar shrugged. "It makes rescuing you so much simpler if I don't have to commute." He smirked at her at that, some of his old form returning, Claire rolled her eyes and shrugged out of his grasp.

"You didn't seem too surprised when we pulled those arrows out, or when I batted them away." Sylar returned his attention to Samson and spoke pointedly. "How do you know about people with abilities."

Samson snorted, which turned into a full blown chuckle. "Let's say I've been about." Sylar's patience seemed to snap and he strode forwards until he was nose to nose with his slightly shorter, frailer but quite intimidating father.

"Tell me." Sylar snapped. "I have a right to know where I come from... why I'm the way I am."

Samson stared at him for a whole minute, before his eyes drifted over to her, perhaps she looked nervous, because he seemed to adopt a slightly less confrontational pose. "And what way are you Gabriel?"

"Sylar." He spat, "My name is Sylar."

"My mistake." Samson replied curiously.

"I'm a killer." Sylar spat, "A monster. I have this hunger, my ability, that's how it started, the need to understand everything, to know more; it drove me to kill, again and again; to take abilities. Why?"

Claire watched the news register calmly on Samson's face, for someone who'd just met his long lost son and found out he was a serial killer, he was taking it rather well.

"Yes, well Angela did mention my son was turning out to be something of a chip of the old block when she called last year, checking in on me I think. Nasty piece of work that woman... I assume you've met, Mrs Petrelli."

Sylar smirked, "She tried to convince me she was my mother. To manipulate me, Arthur too, he's dead now, Angela escaped." Sylar turned and glanced at her, "her granddaughter saved her."

Samson's mouth opened slightly and he glanced back over at her, "Oh you fool boy, don't tell me this is Angela's grandchild!" Sylar raised an eyebrow at him in response. Samson made a spluttering noise and took another lungful of oxygen through his mask. "She'll hunt you down for this; trust me she is not a woman to cross."

"Angela Petrelli is the least of our concerns, Claire's father... both of them actually are in control of the task force hunting people like us down. Which brings me back to my question; how do you know about people with abilities. Do you have an ability?"

Samson grinned and Claire shuddered, she'd seen that grin too often recently. "I met Angela Petrelli during my incarceration in that cement cell of theirs in Texas."

"You were a prisoner?" Claire asked, her estimation of the situation plummeting further.

"They thought I was a danger to normal people, to the world, locked me up, ran tests," he sighed, "Twelve years." Claire blanched, she hadn't been alive much longer than that. "Angela took a special interest in me, never quite understood why, but then I never understood half of what Angela did, secrets wrapped in mysteries with her." Samson continued, Sylar's face grew eager, but he waited patiently whilst his father took another lungful of oxygen.

"What can you do?" Sylar probed unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"You mean what could I do." Samson sighed wearily.

"They took your ability away?" Sylar looked crestfallen, "They did the same to me but..." he paused and looked sharply back at her and she flinched. "Claire's blood healed me, restored my original ability." Samson glanced over at her and there was a flash of hunger in his eyes that she didn't miss. She took a step back.

"Maybe we should find out what it was before you start offering it back!" Claire reminded Sylar pointedly; after all this man had no real bond to his son, if he was somehow more powerful than Sylar they could be in real trouble. Sylar cocked his head and turned back to Samson.

"What was it?"

Samson's lip curled up slightly and his eyes darkened, "I could absorb a person's energy, their life force, used to charge me up like a battery, I could use the energy to do some incredible things, push my body past its limits, stretch my mind in ways I never thought possible." He sighed and Claire felt lead settle in her stomach.

"What happened to the people you did this to?" she suspected, but she had to know, had to hear him say it.

"They died." He told her coolly, completely detached from it, just like his son, "No exceptions, abilities or not, didn't seem to matter."

"And they took it away... some sort of drug or a virus?" Sylar pressed.

"Eventually." Samson replied, seeming eager to have an audience now for his dark tale. "They used me as the guinea pig, I agreed to let them run the tests, on the condition that once my powers were gone they would release me."

"They let you go?" Claire asked in disbelief, abilities or not this man clearly was unstable and belonged locked up somewhere.

"As promised." He grinned opening his eyes wide as if to highlight the point that he wasn't currently in a cell.

"But your ability never returned." Sylar continued relentless it seemed for answers.

"Well I didn't say that." Samson added with a touch of pride at Sylar's grin, "I did get back my ability, in a fashion. It is the only thing keeping me alive right now." He admitted indicating the oxygen tank. "Seems all those injections they gave me caused some damage, gave me terminal cancer..." he laughed bitterly. "That bitch, bet she got a good laugh off that, let me go knowing I was going to die anyway."

"How did you survive?" Sylar asked with almost baited breath, but a niggling feeling started in her gut as she took in the animals that littered the house, the stuffed corpses.

"The animals." She whispered, but they both heard her and snapped their eyes to her for a moment.

Samson smiled darkly at her and she wished he hadn't, she didn't want to impress either of them. "That's right sweetheart," she bit her lip against the comment about yet another pet name. "I couldn't take a human beings energy again, but over time, as the cancer ravaged my body I learnt from my hospital bed that I could siphon it from the birds that used to sit outside my window. It took practice of course, and a great deal of effort, but I learnt to sustain myself, to keep this shell of a body going through the years."

Sylar was grinning madly and Claire had to look away, anything that made him that happy could only mean bad news for everyone else. "This is fate." Sylar laughed loudly, before stalking back towards her, she wanted to shy away, to press herself against the front door, but her pride stopped her, she wouldn't cower in front of them. "Claire's blood can fix you father." There was a twang of pride in his voice as he said the word 'father', Sylar dragged her closer to the older Grey and she felt her stomach churn at the look in his eye, she was under no illusions as to how bad this could be. "Angela Petrelli did this to you, her granddaughter will undo it, you gotta love the irony." Sylar grasped her by the shoulders standing behind her so that she was sandwiched between the two of them. "Needle and syringe?" Sylar instructed.

"Bathroom cabinet, I keep some in case I need a shot, some of these little buggers have rabies." He clarified. He waved Sylar in the direction of the bathroom and he disappeared into the house, leaving her alone with the even creepier Grey. "Seems like this is my lucky day." He grinned baring his teeth at her as his hand came up to her face, grasping her chin. Claire grimaced and attempted to break free, but he wobbled slightly on his legs, without releasing his grip, sending him crashing closer to her so that she had no choice but to hold him up, or have him land on her. He grasped her firmly, his hands in her hair as he stroked it.

"Such a pretty girl." He murmured, "Just like Angela was." Claire flinched staring into those cold eyes, they suited his name perfectly. She felt a pressure on her waist and she was pulled backwards and out of his grasp as he was jerked loose, held aloft in midair by his throat. His eyes bulged in surprise as he was spun in midair to face Sylar; he looked mildly curious to the casual observer, perhaps amused, but she could see the fury burning in his eyes, she knew him better than she wanted to; but right now she was just grateful he had broken the embrace.

"I'm going to say this once." Sylar began calmly, his words clipped and controlled, "You are my father, pitiful though you might be without my help, you are still my father. So you get a warning where anyone else would have been split open and bleeding by now." Samson choked clutching at the invisible grip on his throat as his legs thrashing slightly. "Claire is going to save your miserable life. So you are going to owe her a debt your unlikely to ever repay."

He stepped closer drawing his father inches from his face so he could see his eyes. "That means if you ever touch her like that again I'll tear open your skull and pull out your brain until I can do what you can do... father or not." Samson fell still and attempted to speak, but all that came out was a garbled mess, so he nodded vigorously instead. Sylar held him a moment longer before carefully placing him back on his feet and releasing his grip. Instantly Samson collapsed to his knees coughing and spluttering as he dragged the mask back to his face to draw desperately from it.

Claire dared to meet Sylar's eyes and had to look away, she didn't want him to look at her like that, wasn't sure she ever wanted anyone to look at her like that, with such raw intensity, that she felt devoured whole by it. He stepped around his father's collapsed form coldly and handed her the syringe.

"I don't want to do this." She told him pointedly, feeling slightly more confident in how much he valued her now. "He's a monster, I can't just let him loose back into the world." She pleaded, but apparently the use of the word monster was the wrong one. Sylar's expression darkened and he grasped her arm, taking the needle from her and inserting it swiftly into a vein. Claire felt nothing but watched as her blood pooled into the syringe as he drew it out, until it was full. "What if he uses his ability on us!" Claire cried in desperation as he turned away from her the syringe in hand. Sylar paused and for a moment she let hope blossom, maybe he'd come to his senses.

Sylar met his father's eyes as Samson got to his feet, his eyes flickering between her, the syringe and his son with increasing speed. "I'm fairly certain I could resist it." Sylar added offhand.

"And me?" Claire snapped, "Do you really think he's going to listen to you?"

"Probably not." Sylar agreed, "If he's even remotely like me." He lowered the syringe to his father's arm and pushed it into the skin, holding the plunger still, "But he'll learn not to cross me, just like you have." Their eyes locked and Claire thought she saw a flicker of rage in Samson's but next to Sylar it seemed to pale into insignificance, he nodded gruffly.

Samson stumbled, clutching his chest suddenly and Sylar shot out an arm grasping him firmly as her blood coursed through him. It was strange she'd never actually witnessed the miracles her blood was supposed to be able to do, it surprised her when his skin lost it's almost mottled grey colour and his back straightened from the perpetual slouch he'd adopted. He gasped in a lung full of air and let out a bark of laughter, clapping his hands together in excitement.

"Ha!" he barked, and pointed at her gleefully. "You my dear are a godsend." Claire grimaced; she didn't think god had much of a hand in this, maybe the other one would claim responsibility. Samson stood tall and Sylar dropped his arm, watching clearly fascinated by the suddenly far healthier looking man.

"Try your ability." Sylar commanded.

Samson narrowed his eyes, "On who?" he demanded, his tone biting, clearly offended that his son would think so little of his intelligence as to test him so soon after making a threat.

Sylar's face grew dark and she took a step instinctively away. "On the S.W.A.T. team trying to make a silent approach through the trees ahead of the chopper." Claire let out a gasp and reversed her direction, heading instead for Sylar instead of away from him; he grasped her arm firmly, pulling her back sharply against his chest.

"You can hear them?" Samson asked looking mildly impressed.

"I skill I reacquired it seems after the company cost me it last year, fortunately one these lot don't seem to know about." Sylar replied, appearing to be listening intently. "I can make out at least twelve on foot, another five in the chopper, it's close the pilot is coordinating with the ground, the moment they shoot the nerve gas in through the windows the chopper will head in, should take them under a minute to reach us from their location."

Sylar cast a look about the house, noting the windows. He raised his hand and furniture began to rearrange itself all over the house, the large coffee table flipped on its side and came to rest on the floor in front of the large windows in the living room, the kitchen table rose up and landed in front of the kitchen windows, the bookcase dumped all the books out and slid in front of the front door. Samson watched carefully, taking in every nuance of his son's abilities, Claire would have been more concerned about it, but she was currently too preoccupied with the S.W.A.T. team.

"They're better prepared this time." Sylar noted. "Multiple points of entry, larger numbers, faster projectile darts, snipers, body armour that is designed to withstand crushing blows as opposed to bullets." Claire didn't like the frown on his face, she wanted him to grin manically and claim them all fools for even thinking they could take him out.

"You can stop them though right?" Claire asked uneasily. Sylar's hands tightened their grip on her shoulders and he placed her more firmly to his side away from the windows.

"Can you?" Samson asked beside her, staring about intently his eyes alert, he looked like a caged animal about to be let of its leash.

Sylar cocked his head, listening again. "We're about to find out."

"Luke might have been helpful about now." Claire mused, "Probably should have grabbed him from the van." Sylar spared her a glance of surprise that she'd noticed.

"Luke is the reason they know where we are." Sylar replied. "I should have killed the backstabbing little bastard!" Claire sucked in a breath, it wasn't entirely unexpected, it still stung though.

"Do you have any weapons?" Claire spun on Samson, he glanced at her mildly surprised. "Shotgun in the kitchen, behind the fridge, shells are inside the door." Claire spun away from them, charging into the kitchen.

"Less than 20seconds!" Sylar shouted after her, she pumped her legs faster, grateful the cabin was all on one level and relatively small, she ripped open the kitchen door, catching a glimpse of metal glinting off something outside in the bushes as she shoved her hand behind the fridge. She pulled the shotgun loose, trying to forget that the last time she'd held one of these it had been to use against Sylar. Claire flung open the fridge door and spied the box of shells, she wrenched them free cocking open the gun to check it was loaded, it was, two shots sat in the barrel. Trying to calm her breathing she stopped next to Sylar and crouched down on one knee, bracing the butt against her shoulder as she tried to hold the heavy thing still, facing behind them.

She'd never shot anyone before, she'd come close... Peter, Sylar, her grandmother, but she'd never actually had to fire at them, even Sylar she'd not actually killed when she'd stuck the glass in his head. A moment of panic hit her as she aimed towards the back door in the kitchen, feeling Sylar's leg against her side; what if she couldn't do it? There was a loud bang, she watched mildly impressed as the furniture Sylar had moved slammed into the air in one single movement, the sounds of the canisters hitting them and bouncing back, followed by the surprised shouts from outside filled the air.

She had only a moment to consider her conscience as the back door flew open, blasted almost off its hinges and black helmeted heads decked out in full respirator gear rolled in. Her finger curled around the trigger as she watched the pistol of the black suited figure raise to her head in slow motion, she closed her eyes as the shot went off, the force of the shot slamming the gun hard enough back into her shoulder to shatter something, that slid into place before she'd levelled it again on the second one.

But she didn't need to fire, a tendril of white that seemed to undulate like a ribbon shot out and hit the man in the chest, Claire watched as he convulsed, before turning to dust before her eyes, his suit all that was left of him in a pile. She took a moment to glance up at Samson, the tendril whipped back inside his chest and he puffed himself out, taking in a huge breath, the smile on his face truly frightening in its ferocity. He charged forward and she watched as he hurtled into the next group that had entered after finding the window blocked; it was awful but she couldn't not watch as he seemed to radiate white light, he raised his hands.

Claire blinked, one moment the men and the kitchen were there, the next she was staring out of the back of the house into the forest, the wall completely obliterated, the men she noted were in the forest, one had been impaled on a tree, the other was crumpled at the foot of another, their chests looked concave.

But she didn't have time to spare, she heard Sylar shout something, the din of the guns going off and the zing of bullets past her kept her adrenalin pumping and she spun raising her shotgun. She barely made it in time, the man was almost on top of her, she released the shotgun round straight into his chest and he dropped, his blood pooling around her feet. Her hands shaking she grasped the packet of shotgun shells, as Samson leapt over her crouched form whirling on a new set of assailants.

Her fingers cooperated and she managed to jam two more shells into the chamber, cocking it she pointed it at the jumble of limbs that was trying to get through the debris of the back wall and let off a shot. The impact rocked her but her aim was true as the struggling limb stopped moving and fell away from the house. Blood splattered in front of her eyes and she dropped the shotgun, losing sensation in her whole body as she collapsed to the floor.

"Claire!" Sylar's voice screeched and she heard someone scream in response. Feeling slowly returned to her limbs and she raised her hands, checking for damage, blood was pooled around the back of her neck... they'd got a shot straight through her spinal column and she hadn't even known where she'd been hit! Rage lashed through her and she grasped the shotgun, sliding back to her knees and slamming another round into the chamber cocking it.

A head appeared at the window directly to her right, she didn't hesitate as she aimed; blood exploded outwards obliterating the helmet and the face that had been within it; tears were streaming down her face as she swung the shotgun again, but there was no need, there was no one left.

Bodies most of them mangled beyond recognition littered the cabin, interspersed with the dead animals; the cabin itself also seemed to be shuddering with the strain of collapsed walls. The smell of burnt flesh and blood stuck in the back of her throat and she dry heaved, not able to control her bodies immediate reaction to the adrenalin; she shuddered clutching her stomach and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She hadn't wanted this, and she had a hard time believing Nathan and his team did either; it was pure madness.

Claire risked a glance up and instantly regretted it, Samson and Sylar were standing shoulder to shoulder surveying the carnage they had wrought with soft smiles and blazing eyes; if she was a religious person she might have questioned her faith faced with the truth of evil. As one they seemed to turn to face her and she wanted to shrink back but she was too drained, she merely stared back at them, hating that she'd been brought to this. Sylar displayed his uncanny knack of knowing just what she was thinking, he ducked down and swept her up into his arms, she didn't even protest as he stepped over the bodies and started walking back towards the car they'd abandoned. Samson followed them turning back to glance at the cabin before unleashing one final blast of energy that levelled the building.

Sylar dropped her into the back seat, rightly assuming that she wouldn't be up for driving now, Samson got into the passenger seat, she attempted to ignore him whilst Sylar got behind the wheel. She'd seen Samson in there, seen his face, Sylar might have once regretted taking the lives he did, but she realised that Samson never had and she was the one that had given him back his ability.

The guilt of that, and every other thing she'd had to do to survive in that cabin would haunt her she knew that, she doubted she'd get a good night's sleep for weeks; which given she felt absolutely bone tired was not encouraging. Sylar and his father talked, it was hesitant and uncomfortable to listen to let alone to participate in, but it seemed nothing said family bonding like a massacre. She stared blankly out of the window watching the light fade, it was possible that today had been quite possibly the worst day of her life; she'd never seen so much death in her entire life as she had in this one day, tears slipped down her face silently.

---*---

Sylar watched Claire through the mirror, a sense of unease filled him, that was tempered by the strange giddy feeling he got when he realised he had done it, he had found his father, and it had gone better than in his most vivid imagination. She had done better than he'd thought, had handled herself well, he hadn't imagined she'd actually help them. He'd have been proud of her if she wasn't sitting almost comatose in the back seat now, all she needed to do was start rocking with her knees hugged close to her chest for him to start to get really concerned.

Sylar sighed and pulled the car over, ignoring the curious look from his father, he stopped the car, she didn't even look up. It made up his mind for him, as he jumped out of the car and pulled open the trunk, grabbing a drug pack. Sylar stood watching her for a moment, she seemed focused on one spot on the window, he wondered if she'd even realised the car had stopped. Carefully he opened the other door and slid onto the back seat until he was close enough to touch her. Ordinarily his proximity would have her spitting nails, tensing up, she didn't even flinch when his hand slid up her back and into her hair; he cradled her face turning it to him.

"You need to sleep Claire, you'll feel better then. I'll take you somewhere safe," he leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I promise." He pulled the pack loose and her eyes regained their focus.

"No." She stirred as he brought the tube up to her face. "NO!" she bucked struggling against his hands as they held her firm, he didn't want her to scream, to fight, but she always would, the moment she stopped then he would worry. "Sylar no, please." She pleaded, those big green eyes of hers locked on his, "Please I don't want to dream, not yet." He pulled her face closer, her breath fanning out over his face, still fresh after all this time.

"Claire." He breathed, "I'm sorry, but it's for the best." He slipped the tubing into her nose and she arched her back, trying desperately to tear it free and at the same time wrench herself from his arms. But he held her fast, trying to ignore the sensation of her beneath him, especially with his father watching, Claire wasn't a toy and he didn't want him thinking of her in that way. It took her longer than usual to still, and he glanced at the pack, it wasn't the one specifically designed for her he realised, it wouldn't keep her down as well, her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned, her limbs not nearly as limp as they should be evidenced by the way they still gripped his shoulders loosely.

He eased her fingers off him and placed her flat against the back seat, she muttered something and he brushed her forehead lightly. "Get some rest Claire." He whispered, before sliding away from her and shutting the door. His father watched him as he drove off again, trying to ignore the sounds of her quiet moans as she fought the drugs.

"For a cold blooded serial killer, you seem quite attached to her." Sylar glared at him, but apparently his father wasn't as adept at reading people as he was, he didn't back down. "Not that I don't understand, after all she was quite something back there, and her blood really is miraculous."

"I told you before Claire is nothing to do with you!" Sylar snapped losing his patience.

"But what is she to you son?" Sylar flinched at the word, it was and wasn't what he wanted to here.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I always have a plan, a goal, I always stay detached. But Claire," he laughed lightly unable to stop himself, "For three years she defied every plan I made, her family, her friends, they reduced everything to chaos. Her father helped push me to become what I am." Although he wondered if that was just a shove in the direction he was always going to take, given his father's attitude. "But they failed in the end, they couldn't protect her from me... and then I couldn't kill her, didn't even want to." He sighed, rubbing his forehead as he glanced back at her. "I am her monster, her demon, her very own nightmare."

"And what, now you want to be her hero?" Samson grinned clearly amused. "Men like us; we don't get to be the hero's."

Sylar glanced at him it seemed like he had inherited the smirk. "I don't care what she sees me as, just so long as she sees me." He grinned back at his father, "of course it would be nice if I could leave the back door open without worrying she'll bolt." His father chuckled and they lapsed into silence.


	5. All the Pretty Things

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 5: All the Pretty Things**

For the first time in a while Sylar decided to enter a major city, it was a risk of course, the facial recognition software would have a field day with all the traffic cams and cctv about, but he was tired of sleeping in lumpy, filth encrusted sheets. But unlike most of the people on the list, he didn't have to live in squalor, he had the means to buy anything, thanks to Bob, all it took was some careful negation with a pawn broker, or a second hand jewellers and he could have cash to hand in no time. He stopped outside a small 7-11, hesitating only a moment before deciding it was safe to leave the two of them together before he hurried inside.

Heading straight for the plastic jewellery he grabbed a handful, he wasn't a thief and wouldn't bother to lower himself to become one, so he dropped it all beside the till and paid with the small wad of cash that remained from the last time. When he got the chance, or possibly an ability that would let him travel anywhere almost instantaneously he would give some careful thought to setting up an off shore bank account, and safety deposits with gold bricks inside. But now wasn't the time so he'd have to make do with handfuls of cash until then; he slid back in the car, not bothering to explain as he grasped the plastic and metal bits in his hands.

"Now that is a skill." His father stated quietly watching as his fingers ran over the now gold, platinum and freshly jewelled items.

"It has its uses." Sylar replied, hiding his satisfied smirk, it was always nice to have someone appreciate his work, even if it was from a borrowed source.

"I'll bet." Samson deadpanned, "May I?" he asked holding out his hand, Sylar shrugged and dumped them into his willing hands. "Oh just look at this, I spent some time as a thief once, deposit boxes were our speciality, these are beautiful, what 18 karat?" he asked raising an eyebrow, "and platinum too by the looks." He raised a particularly fine looking ring that he had replaced the large pink glass stone with an emerald. Diamonds were tricky though, he still hadn't got the cut right, he could after all only change what was already there, it took more time and patience with his fine tuned telekinesis to cut them properly. Sylar watched as the emerald reflected in the light, it stirred a memory and he pulled the ring through the air towards him, pocketing it.

"I think I'll keep that one." He supplied in response to his father's raised eyebrow. It didn't take him long to find a place that would suit his needs.

"Here let me." Samson added grasping the bag. "Your face might be up on the nightly news by now for all we know, better to keep a low profile." Sylar stared at him before releasing the bag and letting him step out of the car.

"Remember I can hear everything for miles." Sylar called out to him as he stood on the sidewalk in front of the shop, thankful that as with most places like this, it was down a road barely anyone ever seemed to travel.

"Son?" Samson declared his hand on his chest. "You wound me. Like I would think of fleecing my own flesh and blood."

"You did fleece your own flesh and blood." Sylar quipped it would always be a sore point. He had the sense to look mildly chagrined but not particularly guilty before he disappeared into the shop. Sylar glanced back at Claire, who was still sleeping fitfully through the drugs, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, he stared down at it; the colour was almost the exact same shade as her eyes when she was truly livid with him.

He grinned and reached over slipping it onto the middle finger of her right hand, focusing he used his ability to pull it tight enough that if she wanted it off she'd have to take the skin with it. Which in Claire's case was probably little deterrent, but still, he wanted it to be some effort for her. By the time Samson returned he was starting to get impatient, his father slammed the car door and grinned at him like a Cheshire cat. He handed over a thick envelope.

"We did well." Samson noted needlessly, Sylar didn't bother to comment, he'd expected nothing less, after all it wasn't his first time doing this.

"Should buy us some time at least, I saw a nice place back closer to the main roads, we'll stop there for the night, maybe longer." Sylar shrugged, reversing the car until he could turn around in the narrow street and back out onto the road.

"What about her?" Samson indicated Claire over his shoulder, if he'd noticed the ring he wasn't saying anything.

"I'll wake her when we're closer."

"She's covered in blood son." Sylar frowned and glanced back at Claire, he sighed, he honestly hadn't noticed, she was always covered in blood lately; this time it really was quite noticeable even past the baggy black t-shirt; her throat looked like one giant red smear, her hair had blood matted in it, and her fingers were stained, he didn't even want to hazard a guess as to what had made the marks on her jeans. He had a few bloody patches on his own black shirt from the arrows, but beneath his jacket no one would notice, his father seemed unscathed.

"I used to have the ability to camouflage myself." Sylar added somewhat bitterly, "That would help right about now, who knows, maybe it'll return like the hearing did." He pulled the car to a stop outside a garage and glanced around, it was quite late and dark, not many people seemed to like the idea of getting out of their cars in this neighbourhood. "Get the high powered hose." His father looked about to say something, when he seemed to realise that it was Claire he was talking about, not waiting to see if he complied, he opened the back door and pulled the tubes out of her nose. She came too quickly and narrowed her gaze on him before slapping him soundly around the face, perhaps he was tired, but he was sure he should have seen that coming.

"You asshole!" She spat, wrenching herself away from him. He shrugged in response and waved his hand, dragging her forcefully out of the car to prop her against the side.

"You're filthy Claire." She blinked at him in disbelief before she looked down and realised what he meant. "We want to stop at a nice hotel, but one look at you and they'd be calling the cops."

Claire sighed as Samson reappeared with the hose in hand. "Great." She muttered gasping as Samson unleashed the water on her, she was held pinned by it for a moment but she didn't even grimace. Raising her hands she attempted to scrub at the areas of her body worst affected. Samson shut off the hose and they gave her an appraising look.

"Oh that's so much better." Samson smirked, sarcasm heavy in his words, "Now she looks like a homeless drowned rat, as opposed to a slasher victim." Sylar tended to agree but he wisely bit down on his tongue as Claire rung her hair out with her hands looking ready to wrap the hose around his father's throat.

"So we'll say she fell in the pool." Sylar shrugged, his eyes lingering on the curves the wet t-shirt revealed that he'd not so long ago forced her to reveal to him.

"I need new clothes." She muttered, pulling the soaked, filthy ones away from her body in mild disgust.

"You really do." Samson agreed, returning the hose and getting back into the car, Claire rolled her eyes after him and stood attempting to get the excess water out of them so she wouldn't have to leave a puddle where she sat. It was as she fumbled ringing out her shirt that the ring flashed, she stilled and grasped her hand drawing it up to her face so she could see. She looked up and met his appraising stare, emotions skittered across her face faster than he could read them, but she settled on confused and irritated; naturally. She raised her hand and wiggled her finger.

He'd expected her to be waspish, but her voice was practically hesitant, "What's this?" she asked.

Sylar grinned and crossed to her so that she was forced to crane her neck to see his face. "A gift I suppose." Claire opened her mouth to say something and abruptly closed it.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Matches your eyes." Those very same green eyes darkened and she was forced to look away from him; perhaps it wasn't the answer she'd expected.

"Do I have to leave it on?" she asked quietly, he stared down at the top of her blonde head as she refused to meet his eyes.

"Not if you don't want to, it was a gift Claire, if you don't like it by all means throw it away, I can make hundreds more." He added, dismissing it as nothing; she nodded and he resisted the urge to stroke her cheek as he slid past her and got back into the car. She joined them a moment later, looking immensely uncomfortable in soaked, heavy jeans as she sat back, but he noted with a small smile, the ring was still in place. It was a small victory he supposed, but still a victory.

It was easier at the hotel than he'd imagined, it was a swanky place, typically that meant so long as you had the cash you could waltz in, wearing a tutu, clown shoes and a cowboy hat and they wouldn't bat an eyelid. He paid for two rooms, suites really, king size beds, Jacuzzi baths, not adjoining but still next door. His father was quiet as they rode the elevator to the top, not quite the penthouse, but certainly close, when they stepped out he spared them a moment's glance, his eyes lingering on Claire. A small smile flickered onto his lips and Sylar fought the urge to wipe it from his face as he rammed the key card into the slot, Claire entered first, he met his father's cool pale eyes and narrowed his own, shutting the door deliberately between them.

Sylar turned around and leant back against the door, savouring the notion that for once in his life, things were going right; he had his answers. His father was a monster... just like him. Claire stood next to the bed, her fingers brushing the lush silk covers, before she glanced down at herself and grimaced. He walked up behind her, it hadn't been his intention to scare her, but when his hands latched around her waist she jumped, gasping sharply. He held her tighter pulling her small form back against him, it had been 24 hours after all, 24 hours in which he had kept his word, she stilled seemingly remembering the agreement she'd made what seemed like a life time ago.

"I'm so tired." She breathed softly and to his surprise her head fell back against his chest. For the first time he wasn't sure what he wanted from her, his hand came up and brushed her hair softly, moving it from around her face and tucking it behind her ears. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, his other hand rested on her shoulder, smoothing gently up and down her arm, until that too relaxed. Perhaps he was going soft, but he relented, he had put her through enough today, she wasn't like him, wasn't even like his father, or those men that came after them; she was still that little girl at heart sometimes. If she was playing a game with him, then she was winning this one.

Bending down he slid his hand beneath her knees and gripped her waist with the other, lifting her up into his arms, she looked down at her chest the whole time, another day he'd make her suffer for trying to ignore him, today he'd let her be. He pushed open the bathroom door and flicked a finger at the taps, starting the hot water running in the bath, when he placed her feet down she didn't fight him when he grasped the hem of her t-shirt.

"Lift up your arms." He instructed, she closed her eyes and did so, Sylar took hold of the bottom of the destroyed fabric and slid it up, brushing her sides as he brought it over her head and arms to drop discarded on the floor. When she brought her arms up slowly in front of her chest he didn't stop her; his hands touched her back, brushing down to her tiny waist, the jeans didn't need much help to drop off her, they'd barely fit anyway. Her head hung blonde bangs falling in front of her face, her arms wrapped around herself, she looked the picture of innocence, and he felt like the monster she so often claimed he was.

Pressing his hand flat against her lower back he guided her to the side of the bathtub, shedding his own shirt he lifted her into the water, she slid down to her knees in the warm water and he knelt down outside, not removing his hand from her back. "Relax Claire." He urged, "Just this once, you don't have to be strong all the time, no one's here but me and we have no secrets Claire." Tears slipped down her face and a sob wracked her body, her head bowed and she buried her face in her hands. "Shhh." He whispered, rubbing in larger circles around her back until she leant forward, the water almost half way up the bath now. Her sobs stopped but the tears continued to run silently, as she stared blankly ahead at the beautiful gold tiles on the wall.

She was malleable in his hands, when he eased her back at her shoulders to lie back she did, her hands still crossed lightly over her chest. He leant forward and brought his lips inches from hers, waiting for something, anything from her, her eyes locked on his mouth but she didn't retreat. He closed the distance and her eyes stayed open, looking to his now instead, when his lips contacted hers she let out a sob straight into his mouth that he swallowed, bringing his hands up to her face as she opened her mouth. He could taste her tears, feel them falling against his cheeks as he caressed her lips with his own. Claire pulled back, life, fire, something, it flashed in her eyes and he smiled genuinely at her.

"Is this a game?" she whispered, her lips close enough that she brushed his when she spoke. "Am I something for you to play with, to amuse you?" there was no sarcasm, just deep, honest, sadness in her voice. "A challenge?" she pressed, "how to break the indestructible girl?"

"I don't know." He replied kissing the crook of her mouth as he lowered his hands to the water, waving the tap off as he went, so he could slide his arms around supporting her weight. "I never know what I want from you Claire, in any moment you will say, or do something, and everything I think I want changes." He pressed his lips to her firm ones, sucking deeply as her head fell back into his hand, exposing her neck to him. "I can tell you now, in this moment," he breathed, kissing the column of her throat as he went, trailing fingers down her spine until she shuddered, "that I don't want you to hurt the way you do, don't want to see you look at me with dead eyes."

He opened his mouth and sucked hard at her pulse point, revelling in the steady pounding of her blood through it, proving that she was still very much alive. "I just want you to _feel_ Claire." He rasped and crashed his mouth back over hers, she met him, her lips taking everything he had to offer; only this time there was no threat, no promise over her head, even her tears couldn't ruin the moment for him as they continue to fall.

When he slid into the bath with her she accepted the warmth and strength in his embrace, he felt her slip into it, wanting to feel safe, loved, accepted. One out of three would have to do he mused. It wasn't how he imagined it would be, as he wrapped her naked legs around his waist and pressed his bare chest against hers, the water sloshing around them until he could feel every inch of her. She was so small, he felt like he could snap her, crush her, he didn't want to do either as he lifted her arms around his neck and brushed her tears off her face with his thumb.

He'd expected to fuck her, to make her scream and pant and cry when he finally took her, to make her shiver with her own shame and disgust; that was the only way he'd ever been able to see them together. But as he lifted her hips and pushed his half hard penis against her it wasn't even close to that, she was soft and sweet beneath him, her body giving in to his ever increasing hardness as he pressed against her. A stronger man... a better man might have been forced to see his own demons when faced with such breathtaking innocence, would have pulled out to save his soul. But he was Sylar and his soul was damned to hell a thousand times, this was the best he'd ever felt about the trip there. Her eyes widened and she gripped onto his shoulders tightly as he brushed her barrier and continued through, if she cried at the loss he couldn't tell through the streaks that already marred her face. Sylar wrapped his arms around her completely, her head in the crook of his shoulder as he kissed the top of her head, the slight hitch of her breath sent a shiver through him as she clenched around him.

There was no need to wait with Claire, no need to ask if she was ok, physically she always was, and she was so far from ok emotionally that it was pointless to bring it up. He slid back, gritting his teeth against the feel of her, it wasn't supposed to feel like this; he shuddered pushing deep back inside of her with a slow smooth rhythm as he clutched her to his chest. He was Sylar, he groaned, he was supposed to be the one in control, her hips lifted and met his thrust and he had to stop, his hands shook with the effort and he plunged his tongue into her mouth to stifle the words he wanted to say to her, the soft exclamations he wanted to make.

"Claire." It was all he allowed himself against her lips as he pushed into her small frame, listening to her quiet sobs and hitched breaths beneath him as her hips pushed against his and her hands gripped onto his shoulders then to his hair. His whole body was trembling with the effort to maintain control, the feel of her soft mounds of flesh against his chest creating gentle friction and causing him to clench tightly. He lowered his hand, pushing it between their thrusting bodies until he could touch her. She gasped and pressed her lips against his with abandon, her tongue thrusting into his mouth to match his own, her tears continued in desperation as she clung to him.

She came quietly, her whole body quaking and shuddering, strangely her tears stopped, he'd expected floods in that moment, but they stopped and she met his unflinching gaze as her quivering muscles dragged him under. He grunted sharply into her mouth, sucking hard on her lip as he jerked his lower half against her spilling everything he had inside.

He'd never been much of a cuddler, human contact had never been something he'd craved, but he found he couldn't leave the warmth of her legs and her arms just yet. So he turned them, much easier in a large bath like this, until he was on his side and he could pull her head to rest against his chest above the water line. She was crying now, it probably should have bothered him, but somehow it seemed right, normal even, he held her enjoying the feeling of softening inside of her, as he traced idle patterns along her back.

Claire would regret this in the morning, he knew that, she would take it one of two ways, but right now he honestly wasn't sure which way to call it. She'd regret the way she clung to him in desperation, the need to feel another warm human body, it didn't matter that it had been his in that moment. She'd either blame him, or herself, blaming him would lead to rage, blaming herself would mean she'd slip back into that half dazed state he'd pulled her from.

He contemplated provoking her now, but as her hands brushed softly over his chest, her fingers tangling in the light hairs he reconsidered, no point denying himself the simple pleasures. He pulled her closer just like she wanted, needed right now, and let his large hands caress her softly until her eyes began to close.

Claire slept deeply he realised as he lifted her out of the water and she didn't even bat an eyelid, perhaps he'd been too hasty with the drugs these past few days, he pulled a towel around her wet form and took his time removing the traces of water from her body, before wrapping her in the hotel gown. He smirked as it almost buried her, before pulling on one of his own which fit him infinitely better. His stomach growled as he carried her across to the bed, drawing the thick covers down with a flick of his fingers so he could lay her beneath them, she rolled onto her side immediately, but otherwise continued to sleep on. He traced a finger over her forehead in a caress, before the memory of doing so once before with far more violent intentions surfaced and he pulled his hand away.

Sighing Sylar hopped onto the bed and pulled the phone to his ear, Claire might have been too exhausted to do more than sleep, but he was starving, he ordered a chicken burrito from room service, he was about to hang up when he considered the fact that this was supposed to be a full service hotel.

"Is there anything else Sir?" the polite female voice of the concierge asked, waiting patiently through his silence.

"Do you have a clothes store in this hotel, our luggage was lost?" there wasn't even a pause before she answered; clearly it wasn't that uncommon a question.

"Yes Sir, there are a couple of stores on the first floor, is there anything in particular you are looking for, we cater for evening dress and casual wear."

Sylar grinned and glanced over at Claire who was tossing slightly in her sleep, cradling the phone beneath his chin he eased her towards him, letting his warm hands soothe her frayed nerves whilst she slept, threading his fingers through her hair. "Perfect." He replied quietly almost talking to himself. "Would it be possible to have a selection brought up to our room, a couple of evening dresses and shoes to match, two pairs of jeans, a couple of casual tops and a light jacket with some trainers for her." He heard her fingers on the keyboard typing it all down, "For me a pair of jeans, and some slacks, suit with black shirt and tie, a couple of t-shirts and a black coat."

"Certainly, in what sizes."

He gave her his measurements before turning to Claire, her back to him he placed his large hand over it, spreading his fingers wide, his hand could practically cover the expanse of her waist "She's probably a dress size 2 or a 4." He decided finally, "Her feet are probably about as small, bring her a 5 or 6." He hung up with the woman's assurance that their clothes would be with them in a few hours. Sylar curled his hand around her waist, she turned over, seeking his warmth perhaps and rested her head against his chest, he smirked lowering his hand to rest on her hair as he flipped the TV on. The hotels service channel popped up, he lifted his hand and the remote flew to it, he glanced up in time to see text appear on the bottom of the screen.

'_Let Claire go.' _He paused the remote hovering in mid air as he examined the short message, just as more text appeared on the bottom of the screen. _'She doesn't belong with you, her friends are waiting. Rebel'. _Sylar raised an eyebrow and glanced back down at Claire, apparently one of her friends was a cyber terrorist, because he was fairly certain that this was a closed system, located solely within the hotel. He clicked the TV off and lay back instead closing his eyes, phantom text messages were hardly a cause for concern, he certainly wasn't about to give up Claire for them.

---*---

Claire opened her eyes and yawned widely, enjoying the feel of the clean soft sheets beneath her, before she stiffened becoming aware of the body behind her. Hesitantly she turned Sylar was still asleep, his dark thick hair tousled, she took a moment just to observe him, it was the first time she'd actually had the opportunity, normally she awoke from a drug induced sleep half way down a road. He looked different asleep, calmer, less threatening, which she supposed made sense, his heavy eyebrows rested calmly, he didn't snore either she noted, as he shifted his arm rising behind his head to flex a bicep.

She glanced away, noticing for the first time that he was completely naked beside her, unexpectedly she wasn't, a large fluffy robed protected what was left of her modesty from him. Not that it mattered, she sighed rubbing her hands over her face wearily, she'd already given up her right to be modest around him last night.

She hadn't expected him to be gentle, if she closed her eyes she'd almost been able to imagine he was making love to her, but then she'd open them and it would be Sylar above her, and there was no possibility of it. He hadn't raped her, taken advantage maybe, of her tired, fragile state last night, but she hadn't stopped him. She wanted to feel guilty about that, to feel dirty somehow, but it wouldn't come, she just felt slightly hollow, she'd needed comfort, strong arms around her, he'd offered, it hadn't mattered at the time that it was him.

The ring on her finger came into her eye line and for the first time since last night she let herself look at it, she'd heard them talking in her drugged state, bits and pieces, but enough for her to understand that he had yet another fantastic ability. Raising the ring to her eye line she gazed at the gem, the huge green emerald sparkled picking up the feint sunlight through the curtains, the setting was silver coloured, but she had no idea if it was white gold, silver, or platinum, she decided it didn't really matter. Raising her fingers to it she gave an experimental tug, it didn't come free, looking once more at it she noticed that it was too tight to get over the knuckle, he'd closed it behind it.

Surprisingly a smile tugged at her lips, only Sylar would give a gift and prevent you from returning it, at least he hadn't tried to slip it on another finger she mused, perhaps she could take it in the spirit it had been offered, or at least she hoped that it was offered in.

Claire's stomach churned and she glanced at Sylar to see if his overdeveloped sense of hearing had heard it, he slept on, she scanned the room noticing the room service plates on the table in the lounge area. She didn't feel quite so guilty at that when she picked up the phone and ordered breakfast, then she sat back in the bed, leaning her back against the headboard and waited. Every now and again she would glance at the door, it wouldn't take much for her to leave, to just get up and walk out, she was certain she'd be able to make it down to the taxi stand outside. She could get in, tell him to drive, take her home. She bowed her head feeling tears sting that she hastily brushed away, there wasn't a home anymore though, not for her, the moment she stuck her head outside without Sylar's protection Danko's men would blow it off.

Her family were being watched, her father's had signed away her fate, helping Eric Doyle had been the last straw, she was a deviant personality, corruptible apparently. Glancing around at her current state of undress and the serial killer sleeping peacefully beside her she tended to agree with them.

The thought moved her from the bed finally, she visited the bathroom, trying not to look at the still full bathtub as she unplugged it, ignoring the sensations her body tried to force her to remember vividly. Her first time had been with a serial killer, a monster... Sylar. On any other day that statement would have floored her, today she had no response for it, no excuse. It hadn't been bad either, she'd been one over sensitized raw nerve, and he'd soothed her body with such sweet skill that she had been able to sleep almost without nightmares.

Washing up she exited the bathroom and noticed the clothes rack that had been placed in the reception area, crossing to it with a frown she pulled one of the covered items off and stared at it, her mouth falling open slightly. He'd bought her clothes? Her hands shook slightly as she examined them and he'd guessed her size, she pulled out a pair of jeans noting the price tag with mild astonishment. Before her hands fell over the dresses, hesitantly she ran the silken material of the gold one through her fingers, not even daring to look at the price.

It was incredibly girly and completely inappropriate, but she laughed and dropped her robe, slipping into the dress and instantly twirling around in it in front of the full length mirror. She ran her hands down it, marvelling in how well it shaped her curves, she couldn't do it up without help, but she'd be damned if she'd wake him up for that. Pulling out the shorter blue one she carefully placed the other one back on the rack and slid into it, where the gold one had been long and elegant, this one was tight and bold. Her eyes fell over the last one, green... he seemed to have a thing for her in green, glancing at the emerald one last time she pulled out the dress.

It was beautiful, but then they all were, this one fell to her feet, leaving a slight train behind her, the material seemed to wrap around the waist then trail up to a low halter top that left her back almost completely exposed. Her father would have marched her back inside the house if she'd ever tried to wear this out, she didn't think Sylar would.

"Suits you." She whirled around in surprise, Sylar stood in only a pair of black slacks his hair as tousled as when she'd left him, staring at her intently, his arms crossed, well at least he'd put pants on she thought thankful for small mercies.

Claire nodded not trusting her own voice as he approached her, he stepped around to her back and she tried not to shiver as he brushed his hand down the length of her spine, to settle at the dip. Leaning into her so that his breath tickled the skin on her neck she was stunned at just how her body wanted to react to him, the urge to turn into his arms, to dip her head and find those lips was strong, so she forced her mind to recall every terrible thing he'd ever done to her, to the memory of her mother... burning to death.

"You may be a little overdressed for breakfast though." He continued on, pressing a kiss to her temple. She wanted to bat him away, to pull her body out of his grasp, demand to know why he thought he could touch her whenever and however he damn well pleased. But she didn't, because she knew why, she'd given him permission, by not stopping it, by being weak for even a moment with him. He pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and handed them to her, along with a deep burgundy halter neck top that hugged every curve, she accepted them wordlessly, slipping into them in front of him. Nakedness was starting to become something she was accustomed to with Sylar, it didn't honestly seem to matter to him if she was dressed or not, he still seemed to see every inch of her.

Fearing he'd pick the largest pair of heels he could from the small assortment, she grasped the black boots slipping them on over the jeans before he could comment, she didn't fancy facing down Danko's men in four inch stiletto's. Fortunately the door bell chimed, signalling breakfast, he was pleased enough with the fact that she'd ordered enough for him as well that he left her to continue glancing through clothes for another ten minutes before griping about it getting cold at her.

By the time they were dressed and breakfasted, Sylar had already purchased almost all of the clothes and packed them into a large holdall the hotel also provided him with. It seemed a little absurd to her, they were being hunted by the federal government, their pictures were probably spread far and wide, it was only a matter of time before it reached the TV news stations, their bank accounts were frozen and at any moment armed men could come blazing in. Yet somehow they were sat in a plush hotel, ordering room service and buying outrageously priced clothing for their road trip, which had so far involved the deaths of probably close to 30 men.

When Samson knocked on the door and sidled in she gave him an appraising stare, he had apparently not had the foresight to buy clothes, he observed Sylar quietly packing theirs with mild amusement.

"Sleep well?" he asked, but his eyes were fixed on her and she focused her efforts on not squirming, Sylar was one thing, but his father was quite another, she never wanted to be alone with that man.

"Like a baby." She smiled thinly at him, pointedly ignoring the implication he was trying to make that was entirely in the leer on his face, which was currently facing away from Sylar.

"Well I see you've already been hard at women's work... spending my son's hard earned cash on pretty little dresses." The sneer in his tone took her by surprise, did he hate all women or was it just her he seemed to have a personal problem with? She opened her mouth to respond but Sylar cut across.

"I bought them." Sylar held his father's gaze, "She needed clothes."

"She needed," he brushed the price tag on the green dress, "a dress that costs more than some people make in a year?"

Sylar stood up slowly, pulling the dress away from his father's fingers, his whole body seemed ridged, clearly he wasn't used to people judging him and his choices anymore, at least not people who's opinion actually mattered to him. "It's my money." Sylar's tone was mildly petulant and she turned away from them, not in the mood for another father, son chat.

"Is there a plan for today?" she asked interrupting the hissed argument, they both looked at her mildly confused expressions playing over their faces. "Other than bickering I mean, I assume you do have one, we are still wanted fugitives after all."

Sylar huffed and crossed his arms staring at her. "I have a plan Claire." He told her bluntly, of course he did, he always did.

"Care to share?" she pressed her luck.

"Who's rebel?" the sudden change in topic made her pause.

"What?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Rebel... seems to be skilled in hacking into non-remote access terminals from outside locations; I'm guessing some sort of computer adept ability. Thinks I'm leading you to ruin and that I should take you home." Sylar informed her bluntly, Samson glanced at him looking mildly impressed, but then he hadn't known his son for very long, she imagined he'd be making that face a lot in the next few days, if not hours.

"Oh." She replied softly. "He contacted me a while back, almost straight after I found out what Nathan and my dad were doing. Wanted me to help people like us, told me we had to fight back."

"Did you do as he asked? Did you help people Claire?" Sylar asked looking mildly curious about the answer.

"Yes."

"Is that why you were carted off into the government bag and tag department, despite your daddies efforts to keep you out of it?" he was right on the money and she hated that about him, why couldn't he try being wrong for once.

"Eric Doyle." She muttered the name with loathing, Sylar looked a little blankly. "Puppet guy." She clarified and he nodded.

"Thought I'd killed him." He added softly, looking thoughtful.

"Guess he's more of a cockroach than either of us realised." She snapped, "They found out I was helping him, Rebel sent him to me I'm not sure if he was aware of our past or not, but either way it didn't go well. They found out about it, seemed to think that by helping a man like Doyle I had crossed a line, made me uncontrollable, dangerous." The bitterness in her tone sickened her, but she couldn't bury it.

"Sounds like this Rebel is a sanctimonious asshole pulling strings blindly." Samson added his two cents and fell quiet at their combined stony looks.

"Sounds like Peter." Sylar added smirking at her outraged look, he shrugged at her and she swallowed her words, now wasn't the time to start a fight.

"What did he say?" she prodded, not sure he tell her.

"Wanted me to let you go, said that your friends were waiting for you." his expression was carefully neutral when he spoke and she had no idea what he was feeling about that.

"My fugitive friends... the ones that are probably a hairs breadth from being caught?" she cocked an eyebrow at him and he smirked.

"Yes, well. I have a theory as to who it might be."

"Oh?" she asked, she'd got no clue.

"A boy... Micah Saunders." The name wasn't ringing any bells. "You met once, at Kriby plaza, with his family, quite a talented family that one, the company had extensive records on them. Particularly on his mother, and her sisters, but then you met those too, Tracy was until quite recently seeing Nathan I believe." The image of a blonde, elegant woman in Peter's apartment flashed into her memory and she filed it away, as did the image of the young dark skinned young man with the wide eyes and dark curly hair.

"How could he do all that? He's got to be what, barely 10?"

"Fourteen." Sylar corrected. "And quite brilliant, at least that's what his records say, a technopath. Able to communicate with machines; although that doesn't explain quite how he is able to track us down anywhere, I suspect a certain little girl is helping him on that front." Claire sat down on the bed, was it possible the people that she'd put faith in, this Rebel, was really just a couple of pre-pubescent children. Had she put her safety, her families in their hands so blindly?

"I'll kill him." She whispered, not meaning it of course, but the sentiment was close, he'd gotten her caught.

"It's perhaps not all that bad an idea though." Samson spoke up again, "I mean the more of us together, the better chance we have of fending off attacks. I'm quite sure they won't attempt anything so mundane as an armed ambush again. More likely they'll just drop an airstrike on our heads, take us out from a distance." It had just enough ring of truth in it that Claire felt panic bubble in her chest, as she remembered the bombs that landed with precision on the downed wreckage of the evidence that they were transporting American citizens to prison without trial or due process.

"You want to join up with the others?" Sylar asked him with mild incredulity, his eyebrows practically in his hairline.

"Why not?" Samson pressed.

"Because most if not all of them would happily string me up." Sylar replied clearly irritated with his father's lack of a grasp on this situation. "Particularly after Claire here." he waved indicating her as if that explained it all.

"Are you so sure?" Claire looked back at Samson, seeing dimly where he was going with this.

"I hate to say it but he may have a point." Claire turned to Sylar. "So far you're ahead in the stay alive and free stakes after what, 3 attempts to capture you?"

"Four." Sylar corrected looking smug.

"Most of us didn't even survive one." She muttered feeling suddenly useless, if she hadn't been given a free pass she'd have been among them. "And they certainly didn't send in the choppers and tear gas after us."

"Claire, even if I felt inclined to help them, they won't accept it." The understanding that he was not so inclined was plain.

"Sylar whether you want to accept it or not, this is a war, and believe it or not everyone like us is on our side, simply because they have to be."

"Our side?" Claire grimaced as he plucked out the one thing he could twist from that statement. He stepped forwards and his arms came around her until she could feel his large warm hands settled firmly around her waist. "Why Claire, I never knew you cared." She sent him a dark look and attempted to shirk him off, which was about as futile as struggling in quick sand.

"Either way son, they could be of use." Samson pointed out, drawing Sylar's gaze as he kept his arm tucked firmly around her waist. "If not then do they really pose that great a threat to you?"

Sylar nodded briefly, "Fair enough." He admitted, "It could be useful to see what they know, if they have a plan that could coincide with mine." His arm curled tighter around her waist and he lowered his head to her ear. "I won't give you back to them." He breathed, reminding her just why she was supposed to be afraid of him, as chills swept through her.

She had to be strong, bold, had to make him trust her somehow. "Who say's I'd want you to?"


	6. Into Rebellion

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 6: Into Rebellion**

This new road trip filled him with a growing sense of unease, Claire had explained that this Rebel had been able to contact them through phones, faxes and as he'd witnessed himself, computers. So he'd brought a cell phone and waited, not entirely sure how he was supposed to get a number to him. The phone buzzed in his pocket not an hour later, he glanced at it before passing it back to Claire, his father turned away from the road for a moment to watch him, before returning to driving.

"How far are we from here?" she asked brushing her finger over the screen as if trying to absorb the words somehow. _'Las Vegas, Dupont Industries, Warehouse 12.'_

"Not too far, two day drive probably." He replied, "Unless they come up with a faster way of getting to us." Which he wasn't ruling out. Claire nodded and slipped back into the seat staring out of the window. She was taking what had happened between them better than he'd expected, he was going to have to start re-evaluating his snap judgements with her, he knew her well, he just didn't always know what to expect it seemed. But she wasn't wallowing, and she wasn't spitting nails at him, she just seemed... resigned, a dignified acceptance of her fate. He grinned, he could live with that.

They stopped a couple of times for food, bathroom breaks and gas, but otherwise they drove through the day and well into the night until he found a decent enough place for them to sleep. It wasn't quite the opulence of the last, but it was still a far cry from a motel. Claire slid into the room with a wary look to the bathroom; that made him smirk. But he had no intentions of attempting anything of the sort tonight, he washed up and joined her in the bed, lying on his back until she slid beneath the covers in a small tank top and underwear.

There was no movement on his part, no intention, he wanted her to be off balance, not knowing what to expect from him. She had her back to him, but he could tell from her heartbeat that she wasn't sleeping, so it was a mild surprise when she rolled over until she came in contact with him.

"Sylar." She breathed and he continued to stare up at the ceiling, she might have had the power to curl him around her little finger if she wanted, but he'd be damned if he'd let her in on that secret.

"I'm trying to sleep Claire." He replied thickly raising his forearm to cover his eyes, which wasn't a lie, he really was. Her hand brushed his chest and he tensed, drawing in a sharp breath at the sudden contact, but it was no mistake as her hand flattened and pressed against him. Her body inched closer until her front was pressed against his side and she was able to lower her head to his chest. Instantly his hand came down to wrap around her waist, holding her unnecessarily to him, whilst his other hand rested gently on her head, playing with her hair. But there was nothing sexual in her movements, and despite a flicker of arousal in himself at her nearness he was able to suppress it, whatever he was, he wasn't a sexual predator. As she settled into his arms he suspected she already knew that.

"What if my dad is there?" Her voice was muffled slightly but he would always be able to hear her perfectly.

"Which one?"

"I only have one dad." She replied quietly and he smirked, knowing that full well.

"Then I would advise keeping anything blunt, sharp, or projectile away from him." He felt her smile against his skin and his own grew, he'd never managed to make her smile before.

"You won't...." she trailed off and he felt the tension build between her shoulders as her heart skipped a beat. He knew what she wanted to ask, but she'd have to damn well say the words. "You won't kill him will you?" she managed finally after a long steadying breath.

He stilled his hands against her back, it seemed the moment his fingers met her skin he had little control over their absent movements. It was a tall thing to ask of him, he hated her father, blamed him, but they had always played a game of cat and mouse, the roles always seemed to be switching, but the game was always the same. He considered idly that half of the fun of taking Claire had been to torment the man that had been his own monster, if he was dead, how could he worry, or plot his revenge?

Dimly in the back of his mind, in an area he supposed had once been a fully operating conscience, he chased the idea around about what it would do to Claire if he killed her father, the man that had raised her. The resentment she held towards him about the death of her biological mother was powerful, intense, but she'd barely known the woman, killing Noah would be entirely different. He suspected any notions of her holding him like she was now would evaporate with that particular torment.

But his conscience wasn't what it once was, it was a downtrodden, squashed and mutilated thing now and any protests it made were weak at best. There was an advantage here, if he could just press it correctly.

"Noah and I have history Claire, we have never stopped trying to kill one another. He will hunt me until he can't physically raise his gun to my head, am I supposed to ignore a threat like that?" She was still, but he could practically hear her thinking. "He's lied to you Claire, manipulated you, tried to control everything about your life."

"To protect me!" she raised her head and looked at him squarely her jaw set.

"To protect himself." Sylar corrected, "_His_ family." He sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes, she flicked her head with annoyance doing it herself. "Noah is not a man to cross Claire, there's a reason the government called on him to do this job again, he is very good at it. You don't even know the half of his history, the people that trained him, groomed him to be a weapon, long before the company appropriated him." Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't want to." He sighed, she wanted to remain deluded into believing her father was still a good man deep down inside.

"He protects what's his Claire, it's just his nature and he'll destroy anything that's a threat to that. A man like that never stops." Claire looked away, he exerted gentle pressure around her waist, lifting her so that he could pull her head to the crook of his neck, bringing her head up to his pillow, as he turned curling her into his much longer frame.

"Please Sylar," she whispered with quiet desperation. "For me?" His back went rigid and his jaw locked, it was not what he wanted to hear from her, she seemed to freeze too, realising what she was saying. He raised his hands roughly, grasping her face and rolling her beneath him in one fluid aggressive movement, anger bubbled through him at her presumption, and at the knowledge that it was almost enough. She flinched beneath him, her eyes holding his as she struggled to breath against his weight pressing down on her.

"For you?" he sneered and she grimaced, "What makes you think I care about your feelings Claire, that I give a rats ass if your happy or not?"

Claire's eyes hardened and he grunted sharply as her small hand grasped him firmly in a sensitive area. "Because you do!" She bit off tightening her hand and making a swift stroke with it.

"I've got news for you Claire." He smirked not taking his eyes from hers, "I'd react the same way to a thousand other women when they're pinned beneath me."

"Would you though?" she pressed and squeezed him lightly, his eyes wanted to close and roll back into his head but he forced them to focus instead on her lips as she spoke. "Would you let someone else press themselves against you for comfort?" another stroke and his mouth opened to suck in air he was forgetting to breath.

"Would you hold them whilst they cried, soothe them, protect them?" she raised her head to his throat and sucked gently on his pulse point which made his body shudder. "You can't honestly tell me that you picked out such beautiful clothes just to cover me with?" he grimaced, perhaps that had been out of character, even his father had picked up on it, and of course he'd gotten defensive, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable with the gesture.

"How many people have you saved in your whole life?" she continued on, her lips against his throat and her hand wrapped around him quickly trying to steal coherent thought. She was seducing him, he grinned, the little wench was actually trying to seduce him into doing what she wanted... the problem was it was working, he hardly remembered why he was mad at her as he groaned against her cheek.

"You came back for me," she continued, "Not because I was leverage, because we both know I'm not anymore and there were better ways to hurt them other than with me." She bit down against the skin and he bucked, curling his hands around her sides with almost crushing force.

"You came for me because you wanted me!" She hissed almost brutally, the truth in her words resonated in the silence of his mind and he twitched, gasping as he emptied himself into her pumping hand. Disgust filled him, he loathed that she had been able to draw that from him, to understand him well enough to know his secrets and dangle them in front of him.

"Well you just know everything don't you?" he spat, wrenching her hands up to pin them beside her head with his own, pressing his full weight down on her until she gasped.

"I'm not wrong." He wasn't sure where this new found confidence and assurance came from, but he wasn't sure he liked it on her, especially not when she was directing it at him. "You've been relatively good to me." She added more softly her legs rose and before he realised her intent she had wrapped them around his waist, pushing him closer still to her half naked form.

"You could have hurt me a thousand different ways, forced me to do terrible things, tormented me with every waking moment until I was little more than a ghost of who I was." She arched her back lifting her upper half as much as his restraining hands would allow until she was close to his mouth, he didn't pull back. She didn't need to explain what he had really done, he saw it in her face, he'd strengthened her somehow, purged her of those childish fears and doubts she'd clung too, the youthful optimism.

He kissed her hard, letting her understand what a dangerous road it was she was playing chicken across. Her mouth met his passion for passion, she was desperate and righteous to his fury and disgust, he forced his tongue into her small mouth, only to have hers meet it.

"You won't kill him." She gasped out when he moved away to breathe, he covered her mouth again, not wanting to hear it, it wasn't a question, but a certainty and he hated her for it. He kept her pinned, forcing his weight down on her as his dick hardened against her stomach, there was one thing it seemed that was uniquely for her. She shifted as much as was possible beneath him, until he slid lower and found himself brushing her inner thighs as she raised her hips to him, eager even... He stopped yanking her arms above her head so he could pin them with one of his, allowing him to grasp her chin, forcing her gaze to his.

"Do you think giving me this, something I've already claimed as mine, will really stop me from killing him?" his words bit into her and he saw them war in her eyes.

"Yes." She snapped back, smirking at him, he wanted to smack that look straight off her face. "I'll choose you right in front of him, defend you to him, it's what you want, you'd win. Imagine his face." She dangled it in front of him, he couldn't help it he took the bait.

"You drive a hard bargain." He grinned taking her mouth again as he slammed himself inside of her, forcing her to buck violently as he swallowed her cry. This was how he'd imagined taking her, how it would be between them, he drew back out and repeated the action, feeling her tight walls strain to accommodate him in a way that to anyone else would have been painful.

But no matter what he was feeling, the rage coursing through him at the little cheerleader that dared to command him, he found he couldn't maintain it with her softness around him. He released her hands, taking her face in his hands as he slowed his violent thrusts, his kiss deepened and she moaned low in her throat. He was just a man after all it seemed and despite his abilities, however special he was, she would always have the power to reduce him to purely that.

---*---

Claire felt the change in him, the release, he relented and she felt the anger he had attacked her with disappear into her mouth. She had no idea what it was about her that seemed able to speak to him on such a primal level, but she refused to deny it, refused to deny that it was a two way thing. A spark, a connection, they had always been drawn together, always felt something strong, whether it was terror, hatred, loathing, disgust... now something new.

It wasn't love, god help her she wasn't that much of a fool, she doubted he was even capable of such a thing, his mind would never let him commit to something so normal and she could never knowing who he was, what he was. But she wouldn't pretend that she only hated him, her emotions were too convoluted to even make a stab at her real feelings in this matter, but she was certain they were compelling.

His body sunk into hers with a kinder rhythm and she let her head fall back, her mouth opening to invite him further, perhaps she was broken already... maybe he'd broken her and she hadn't noticed. But as she lifted her hips to his, feeling her body break out into a sweat against him, she considered that it wasn't such a terrible thing to be his.

Claire fell asleep wrapped in his arms, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, and she awoke that way, feeling oddly at peace. Had she tamed her monster? One glance at his dark features convinced her otherwise, he was Sylar, he always would be, but to her sometimes he could be something else.

He was quiet when they dressed and packed, eating his breakfast without uttering a word to her, he barely even greeted his father, before they slid into the car, he drove this time and she took up position in the backseat. In a way she understood, it was easier to pretend that she hadn't seen him exposed if he didn't speak to her, to forget that she'd drawn something from him he hadn't wanted to give. The cell phone vibrated and she pulled it out, bringing up the text message.

_'8pm, we're all waiting for you Claire, don't worry.' _She sighed and closed the phone, relaying the time to Sylar, who merely nodded, not asking if there was more to it. But she was worried, they'd expect her to run to them, to be traumatised, frightened, to want them to save her from the monster. Well she probably was traumatised; the way her thoughts seemed to jump erratically around her head whenever she thought of the man in the driver's seat was probably a symptom.

He wouldn't just let her go, and if they tried to force him he would kill them all, but trying to dissuade him from going hadn't even registered in her mind. She wanted to see them, to be a part of their lives... but she didn't want to give up Sylar either, _what was wrong with her?_

Stockholm syndrome occurred to her, she'd been forced to bond with him, they had a common enemy and he had been gentle, even sweet with her at times. But she wasn't under any illusions as to what he was, he was still a killer, that information was forever ingrained in her mind, and he had almost no feeling about the things he did; she hadn't developed some warped vision of him. Quite the opposite, getting to know him better had only increased her knowledge of the sheer scope of the darkness within him. She shouldn't have found that fact comforting... that he was bigger and badder than anything else that might be out there... that evil had made a place for her in whatever form she chose to fill it.

She ate her meal in further silence, even Samson seemed to have the good sense not press either of them, amusing himself instead with the waitress. He like his son, seemed to have an unusual attraction, now that he'd shaved of course, and dressed himself in black suit trousers and shirt. Maybe it was the sense of danger about them?

The idea wasn't as hokey as it sounded as she tried not to roll her eyes a young woman sat with her boyfriend at the counter eyed Sylar at every opportunity she got. Samson touched her hand from across the table, threading his fingers through hers, she was surprised Sylar let him, she'd have pulled away, but that would have let them both know she wasn't comfortable with it.

"So my dear." He asked her that deep rough voice of his arched over her and she wanted to recoil from it, "Is it likely your grandmother will be at this little get together?"

Claire stared coolly at him, "Possibly, I suppose it depends who's side she's landed on, Nathan's or Peter's."

"Excellent." He grinned at her and brushed his thumb deliberately over the back of her hand. Sylar downed his coffee and slammed the cup down with a little more force than was necessary, but otherwise didn't comment. Samson smirked at her and withdrew his hand, but she felt his knee brush hers beneath the table, instinctively she drew them back and quite by accident found herself edging closer to Sylar. His arm slid around her shoulders and Samson's leg withdrew, the tension dissipated and she finished the last portions of her meal with Sylar's fingers ghosting up and down her arm. When Sylar glanced at his watch, a knot formed in her stomach.

"7:30." He told them pointedly, almost time. He moved until he was facing her, surprise was the only thing she registered when his hand slid along her jaw and his lips pressed lightly against hers. He'd never kissed her in public, never even touched her in any other way than minimally until today. It didn't last long, but it was powerful, she felt slightly dazed when he drew back, his thumb making light circles across her jaw. She got the impression he was reminding her of her decision last night, as if it was necessary.

"Time to go." He breathed and dropped a kiss to her nose before getting to his feet and pulling her up along with him. Samson caught her eyes and something unpleasant was settled there, she looked hastily away, she realised then that Sylar had staked his claim on her in full view of his father, perhaps he wasn't as unconcerned as he appeared with his father's interest in her. They got into the car, their road trip almost over, in less than twenty minutes they were pulling up to the warehouse district and she'd run out of time.

---*---

Sylar waited in the car for a few moments, his eyes on warehouse 12, he could feel eyes watching him, he could hear heartbeats from within and above, they sped up slightly with the appearance of the car and he heard whispers. He smirked, Peter's voice clear amongst them, Parkman, Noah, Angela, he smirked hearing Luke's voice and of course young Micah, it would be a reunion. He counted 25 separate heartbeats, he guessed that aside from Noah, every one of those hearts beat with an ability.

"Quite a welcome home party Claire." He informed her, she jumped at the sound of his voice, as it drew her from her deep thoughts, she stared up at him waiting for him to expand on his point. "I count 25." He added, "Seems like team Peter has been busy." Claire looked more nervous if that was even possible.

"Please don't let this turn into a blood bath." She muttered underneath her breath, he got the impression it was meant to be a silent prayer.

"We're becoming an endangered species Claire, it wouldn't make much sense for me to obliterate our only allies would it now?" his words seemed to calm her slightly, and it irked him that it had been his intent. Still he wasn't a fool, if they had the Haitian inside it could get ugly, he popped open the glove box and grasped the hand gun he 'd taken off one of the agents bodies, shoving it into the waist band of his jeans.

Sliding out of the car, the three of them stood in front of it, waiting, no one emerged, so cautiously he stepped forward, taking her hand in his as he went. His father took her other side, close enough that he was almost touching her, another time he would have to dwell on his father's growing interests in Claire, but for now he was certain that it would prove useful in keeping her with them. Wrapping on the metal door he waited resting the urge to buckle it inwards, until slowly it slid open, a young woman with a short blonde shock of hair appeared, he recognised her from Primatech's prison as the speedster that had handed him Arthur's card.

Pulling the door back she glanced intently at each face, looking drawn and determined as she held the door aside for them. Sylar smirked at her and entered, having to tug lightly on Claire's hand to make her feet move, honestly you'd think she was expecting a firing squad. He paused taking in the scene before him and re-evaluated her prediction. Lined up and around the warehouse, which was filled with computers, monitors, and other equipment, chemicals, ammunition, were people... a quarter of them he noted were former level 5's. He smirked, survival really was a wonderful thing for making friends of enemies.

But he had eyes for only one man who stood to his full height, his gun clenched in his fist which was pressed against his leg, as he stared back at him, his eyes flicking between him and his daughter.

"Feels like shootout at the Ok Coral." Samson quipped slotting his hands into his pockets with an amused smirk as he rocked backwards on his heels, looking supremely unconcerned. But he could see through that, certain no one else besides he and Claire would, as his father's eyes scanned each face, sizing and judging threats, making plans.

"Less friendly than that." Sylar shot back, and he and his father shared a knowing look, killers united, he laughed inwardly, always have a plan.

"Claire honey, are you ok?" Claire blinked and looked at her father, Sylar didn't bother to suppress the amusement when all eyes came to rest on Claire. Most widened in surprise, but he realised that perhaps she didn't quite look like the Claire they'd expected to see. For one she was wearing a dark blue and white silk top that plunged at the neck and wrapped around her middle, added to the skinny jeans and white heels with her hair neatly combed up and the light makeup, she looked like any other young woman. Certainly not a terrified kidnap victim of a serial killer and his psychotic father.

"Fine." She replied a little curtly and her father's eyes narrowed. She gestured to the guns, "Were you expecting someone else?" his frown deepened as did Peter's who edged closer to her, looking like one over strung nerve short of a breakdown.

"Sylar what is this?" Angela asked and Samson's attention snapped to her, for her part she fixedly ignored him.

Sylar shrugged dropping Claire's hand and sliding it instead around her arm, Noah's fist clenched and he shot him a winning smile. "What do you mean? We got young Micah's... sorry Rebel's." He winked at the young man hiding in the back, who turned pale, "message and here we are. Just as requested."

"Then let Claire go!" Peter snapped, Mohinder placed a restraining hand on his shoulder and Sylar glanced briefly at the good doctor.

"Oh I would. But we hit a little snag there didn't we Claire-bear." He pressed a kiss to her temple and watched as both Bennett and Peter seemed to lunge as one. Fortunately it seemed like the other's had been expecting this and they were both restrained.

"Oh for heavens' sake." Claire snapped and shot him a dark look, before sliding out of his grasp, "Do you have to torment them with it. Honestly isn't it enough that you've won."

"Won?" Noah's voice hissed and Claire flinched.

"I'm staying with Sylar." Her words may as well have been a grenade tossed amongst them, there was utter silence as it sailed through the air, then complete pandemonium when it landed. She took a reflexive step back into him and he grasped her shoulders, stunning the two men that had lunged for her, trying to tear her away from the big bad monsters grasp.

"If you're not here to release Claire, then why are you here?" Parkman snapped, his face was strained and Sylar noted that he was attempting to break into his mind, before he glanced at Claire turning his attention there, Sylar extended his mental focus to her mind and pushed him out.

"He's blocking her somehow." Parkman snapped in response to Bennett's sharp look at him.

"Such wonderful friends you have son." Samson spoke suddenly, cutting through the tension, and redirecting the interest back to the unknown in the room.

Parkman smirked, "He couldn't block that, Claire thinks Mr Grey here is pond scum."

His father inched closer to Claire and bent slightly to her, "Pond scum?" he quirked an eyebrow at her looking truly wounded as he brought his hands up to cover his heart mockingly,

Claire shrugged. "Sorry." She muttered, drawing further looks of disbelief from the others.

Sylar glanced at the two of them as they shared some kind of non-verbal communication before he coughed lightly interrupting. "Anyway, we're here to help... or whatever." He raised his arms wide, trying not to look like a serial killer. Claire's rolled eyes suggested he hadn't been successful.

"Could you try that again with some sincerity." She muttered, "I'm sure they believe you."

"You want to help?" Peter asked in utter disbelief.

Sylar smirked at him and wrapped his arm back around Claire's shoulder, tugging her into his side easily, "Well Clair-bear and," he paused looking at his father. "Oh I'm sorry, I haven't introduced my father. Samson Grey this is," he waved his hand, "everyone."

"Charmed." He replied smoothly. "I'm thinking I was mistaken, clearly they have everything well in hand son." He turned on his heel as if to leave.

"Mr Grey no, wait!" Claire's voice rang out startling both he and his father, he glanced down at her mildly surprised, but Samson spun back around his teeth bared in a huge grin at her as he rejoined their small group.

"See I knew you'd come around sweetheart." Claire flinched and Sylar eyed Bennett carefully, he really couldn't have the man shooting his father. It took him a moment to ponder Claire's reasons, before it occurred to him that she and her father had acted far more as a duo during the little home invasion than he had; perhaps she was genuinely afraid of losing him from their side. "And it's Samson." He raised his hand as if to brush her cheek and Sylar shifted her in front of him and out of reach as subtly as he could manage.

"Offers on the table, the three of us into your little resistance movement." He snapped, trying to bring the conversation away from more dangerous territory, he sensed tempers were about to snap. "Take it or leave it. You've got," he glanced at his watch, "Five minutes, we'll be over here." he declared dragging Claire's slightly stunned form over to an empty side of the warehouse, Samson followed after engaging in a silent staring match with Angela for a full thirty seconds.

"Well I think that could have gone better." Samson commented, sitting smoothly on the edge of the table. Claire joined him, pulling her legs up so that she could lean her back against the wall. Sylar turned to watch the group, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed.

"What are they saying?" Claire asked him quietly, trying not to look over at them.

"They're trying to decide if I've acquired a mind control ability." Sylar shook his head, "Your father's arguing that with everyone here they stand a chance at taking me out." He snorted, "And Angela thinks they should consider the offer." He sighed, "Peter is too caught up in the moral implications of it, _but but, he's a killer!_" he did a rough impression that tugged a smile at her lips, which made it worth it.

"Who has more sway?" she continued, finally looking up over at them, frowning as they all seemed to be shooting glances over at their little trio.

"Peter seems to be a rallying point, but I think maybe not in this instance, he's too close to the issue. Hah." He laughed and she jumped, before smacking his arm lightly.

"God don't do that." She snapped, looking ruffled.

"Sorry." He replied, not in the least bit. "Parkman's on our side, so is Mohinder." He chuckled, "Will wonders never cease."

"Yes well Dr. Suresh has a lot to answer for." Claire snarled; shooting a look at the good doctor that gave him ideas, which he quietly filed away.

"Well I'm quite certain that if Angela has her way, there will be a bullet between my eyes before the night is through." Samson added grimacing slightly.

"Maybe this was a mistake." Claire sighed, "Just seeing you seems to be putting them on edge. I'm not helping." She muttered. "They're just too angry to even consider it properly."

Sylar glanced down at her, this had meant a lot to her, and even he could see the opportunity it presented. "They may simply need more time and our absence." He noted, watching as half a dozen of his old fellow inmates had gotten together in a group that were shooting glances over at them. He was mildly surprised that Luke hadn't chosen to show his face, but then he had sold them out so perhaps it wasn't too unexpected. "Definately more time." Sylar sighed. "We're leaving."

"What?" Claire cried out, drawing every eye over to their little group.

"Gabriel is right." Samson added heavily.

"Sylar." The name came out in tandem as he snarled it and Claire snapped it at him. He blinked looking slightly amused.

"He is right though, let them sleep on it, then perhaps Claire should ring them back to get their answer." Samson touched her jean clad shin and gave it a gentle squeeze, which for once was intended only to comfort and not insinuate.

"Fine." Claire snapped, and jumped to her feet storming across the warehouse floor, so that he and his father were stuck standing still their mouths open slightly. Sylar lurched off the wall and hurried after her, but the speedster was faster. She zipped in front of Claire.

"Claire. Where are you going?" she asked sharply.

"Out." Claire snapped and shoved the slightly taller blonde away from her; apparently the speedster hadn't been expecting it because she landed solidly on her ass with a look of shock.

"Sylar where are you going!" Peter bellowed charging towards him his hands raised. Sylar didn't even look his way, just flipped his hand out, sending Peter skidding back across the length of the warehouse as he finally caught up with Claire. He grasped her arm, turning her to look back at him, there were tears streaking her cheeks.

"Just get me out of here." she pleaded unfortunately it was loud enough for them all to hear. He picked her up, tossing Samson the car keys as they went, the half dozen former prisoners that had formed the group stepped in front of them.

"You really don't want to stand there." Sylar snarled, placing Claire back on her feet, she glared soundly at them, but her eyes were on Eric Doyle. "Move." He commanded, Flint stepped forward and grinned. Sylar heard Angela shout something from behind, heard Mohinder leap at his back. A gun clicked and everyone froze, hesitantly he turned looking down at Claire who held Mohinder pinned by the gun aimed at his head, he was mildly impressed at how fast she'd managed to pull it from his waistband without even alerting him.

"Easy Claire, just take it easy." Mohinder raised his hands, edging back slowly.

"Claire you don't want to shoot anyone, put the gun down." Parkman called out to her; she spared him a glance but didn't lower it. Sylar considered wrenching the gun from her hand, but resisted the idea, right now she was fully on team Sylar, to the point where she was defending him, he wasn't about to take her weapon.

"She's quite good with a firearm," Samson noted absently, the glow fading from him. "I wouldn't press the issue, she's had a rough couple of days." His father smirked shooting Angela a significant look that made her lips purse sharply.

"Claire." Sylar snapped, causing her to wince, "As much as I appreciate the sentiment," he slid up beside her holding his hand out, "let's not shoot the good doctor, they may need him." Claire didn't look at him, but she did slap the gun into his hand, he pushed the safety back in and slipped it back into his waistband, grasping her wrist. "We're leaving." Sylar looked directly at Bennett as he spoke. "For tonight at least. Give you some time to consider this and what it means."

"We don't need time." Bennett barked. "We accept your offer Gabriel."

"Sylar!" all three of them barked at once and he had to grin at Bennett's snarl, at least Claire wasn't deluded enough to confuse the two.

"You accept the offer?" Sylar repeated. "You understand what that means, you tell me all about your little operation, hold nothing back and I help save your collective asses the next time the S.W.A.T. teams come calling."

"It doesn't work like that Sylar." Angela spoke finally, saying his name very deliberately. "No one knows everything about the operation, only parts, it's safer for all of us that way."

"No one but you, right?" Sylar grinned at her, enjoying the look of distaste on her face at just having to deal with him. "Fine we'll try it your way."

"I'd like to speak with my daughter... alone." Bennett stepped forward and glared soundly at him, Sylar glanced down, but Claire seemed anxious.

"I'm not sure Claire wants to speak with you though daddy." Bennett practically growled in response. Sylar just took it as a job well done his grin widened when Claire brushed past the man without a word; he grinned wide at him and followed her; Samson stayed behind.


	7. Power to the People

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 7: Power to the People**

Claire eased herself onto a well worn looking couch in front of the TV. "God, TV." She murmured with almost longing, as he dropped in next to her, putting his feet up on the table in front and lifting his arms to spread out over the back. Peter followed them, sitting down in the arm chair across from them his eyes not leaving Claire's face. Micah stood quietly beside him, Sylar saw Claire's eyes flick to him before she glanced away.

"So Micah." Sylar broke the silence, drawing the startled boys gaze to his. "Quite a talent you have there." Micah stumbled backwards and Peter grabbed him around the waist.

"Its ok buddy." He promised him.

"Stop scaring him." Claire snapped exasperated. Peter tried to get Micah to move along, but he held his ground.

"No I want to make sure Claire's alright." There was steel in his voice, Sylar couldn't fail to be impressed by that, just like Claire, the boy had grown up fast.

"Claire's fine." She replied, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on the news channel.

"You're hanging about with a serial killer. How is that fine?" Micah asked, there was genuine concern in his voice, and Sylar wondered just what young Micah had seen on his surveillance cameras, the boy's eyes fisted and he had his answer, young Micah had a crush it seemed. Sylar lowered his hand to Claire's neck idly and gently brushed his fingers there, scraping the base of her skull with his small nails until she relaxed back against his touch.

"Leave her alone." Micah hissed, fury radiating off his small form. Sylar smirked at him.

"Micah." Peter started, but apparently the boy knew what he was going to say, because he cut him off.

"It's not alright. He's always touching her, dragging her about; he won't just leave her alone." Tears shone in his eyes and even Claire turned to look at him, forgetting her anger with him for lying to her.

"It's okay Micah." She told him gently, he rocked forward on the balls of his feet like he wanted to move closer. Sylar watched Claire as she shifted, her arms moved a fraction and Micah was beside her, wrapped in her arms like she was a lifeline. Sylar noted the absence of the family that had surrounded him at Kirby Plaza, and the way his small arms gripped at Claire; unless he was mistaken, poor little Micah had no one left.

Peter's penetrating gaze was on him, clearly he'd taken Parkman's ability for the time being. Sylar smirked, he'd been quite interested when he found out that Peter had acquired a lesser version of his old ability. Still it was quite useful, but synthetically induced, which meant he wasn't interested in it.

"It must be difficult for you Peter." Sylar stated quietly, "To have had so many abilities, so much power and to have it ripped from you... by your own father no less."

"Way I hear it your father isn't such a peach either." Peter replied snidely his eyes darkening as he continued trying to break through his mental barriers.

"It just must make you feel so... inadequate." He rolled the word around his mouth to give it extra weight; it seemed to sink in as Peter's fist gripped the arm rest tightly. "I mean now of all times, is not when you want to be caught with your pants down is it? What you must want to give, to have it back... to be powerful, respected again." He felt satisfaction swelling inside of him as Peter clenched every muscle in his body with restraint, after all there was nothing he could do to Sylar now, he was no threat at all.

But Peter didn't seem to be working with his big brain, as he jumped to his feet stalking forwards, Sylar let him, let him swing his fist and hit him solidly across the jaw. Smirking Sylar swung his head back around grinning as the split lip began to heal, but his eyes widened in surprise as electricity burst from Peter's hands and straight into his chest, before he was lifted off the sofa and sent careering back on his ass. Sylar gasped, looking up.

"Should be careful who you let touch you Sylar." Peter smirked at him, clearly enjoying his moment. "I learnt that the hard way." He raised his hand and Sylar did the same warding off the attack.

"You took my empathy." Sylar sneered, raging inside, whilst somehow managing to be secretly impressed with the young nurse.

"Thanks." He smirked at him, he raised his hand, but Claire caught his wrist.

"That's enough Peter." She snapped looking significantly at him, he raised an eyebrow. Oh the poor boy, he didn't understand. Claire dropped his wrist and stepped away from him.

"Claire." Peter started exasperated. "Don't you see? You don't need Sylar now, I can protect you; I can keep you safe now." Claire eyed him intently, shaking her head gently.

"It's not about that Peter." She sighed and Sylar could almost hear her heart tearing in two. He was mildly surprised, Peter had a point, he was her hero after all, and now it wouldn't be just in name, so long as he didn't absorb anyone else's ability by touch, but he seemed to have got a handle on doing that consciously. If he was honest with himself, he couldn't understand her hesitation. "It's not that simple."

"Claire it is that simple. He's a monster, a killer!" Peter was angry now, angry at her unwillingness to trust him.

"Yes." Claire hissed, Sylar noticed the audience that was trying not to watch, despite the fact that Peter gaining all Sylar's abilities, and given that he was a natural sponge for other people's feelings, probably every one's in the building; was big news. "And that's the point Peter." She snapped and Sylar felt the light go on, he understood, just like he always did. Slowly he got to his feet.

"Will you do what is necessary Peter?" Peter's eyes snapped to him.

"Stay out of this!" Peter bellowed at him, clearly not quite in control of the ability he'd stolen from Jesse as he put a bit extra force behind it that rocked him back on his feet slightly.

"Oh but I am in this Peter. Looks like I just charged up this little group's secret weapon, I think I've earned the right to talk." A gun was pressed into the back of his head and he was in no doubt that it was Bennett holding it, he cursed distractions he really needed to focus. What interested him was Claire's expression, she looked positively terrified, and he knew why.

"You can't protect Claire Peter, look at her face, does she look safe, does she look like she thinks you can?" Sylar smirked and winced as the gun was pressed into his head.

"That's enough out of you." Bennett snapped, "For everything you've done to Claire, I'm going to enjoy this."

"Sylar's right." He felt the gun press further against his skull, as Peter stared in disbelief at Claire, but her attention was behind him, where a bright light had begun to emanate, he wondered how much longer his father could go like that before he needed to recharge. "Mr Grey." She focused her eyes on the point behind him and Sylar smirked, they seemed to have forgotten his father in all this. "Let me handle this, no one has to die here." Samson stalked forwards into Sylar's eye line, he gave an experimental tug with his mind, but Peter was counter acting it.

He walked right up to Claire, he realised too slowly what was happening as Samson's hand shot out, tendrils of white light shot into Claire's chest. He couldn't contain it, he bellowed his fury, knocking Peter sideways, as his telekinesis shot Bennett away from him. He charged at his father, but he was too late the white light snapped back and Claire collapsed into his arms.

There were shouts all around but he only had eyes for Claire, he raised his hand to his father, gripping him around the throat and lifting him clear away from her. But Claire didn't fall, she stumbled letting out a sharp cough as her eyes opened and she clutched onto the couch for support.

"How?" he started to ask then trailed off... Claire's ability meant that she couldn't die, Samson could suck energy right out of her cells, and she'd just make more. He eyed his father who smirked at him, the son of a bitch had figured that out ages ago, probably back inside the cabin. "You knew, knew you could use her like a battery; that she wouldn't die." Sylar snapped releasing his grip and placing him back down on his feet.

Samson grinned at him. "But you didn't, you were about to kill your old man without hesitation. Which was I believe," he called behind them to the two men picking themselves up and the other's gathering around, "the point you were both trying to make."

"He'll do whatever it takes to keep me safe." Claire finished for him, and Samson smiled warmly back at her.

"Exactly my dear."

"What?" Peter cried in desperation. "Claire don't tell me you're listening to this insanity!"

"It's not insanity Peter." Claire was getting cross now, he could see it mounting in her eyes. "How many people have you killed Peter?" she stood up straight, the colour returning to her cheeks, apparently even his father's ability couldn't drain her for long.

"Claire that's not the issue."

"Yes it is." She let out a cry of frustration and stalked towards him, "You just don't get it do you." she shoved him hard in the chest. "You were supposed to be the hero, supposed to be the one to save the day. But when I needed you, when I really needed you... you weren't there. He was." She turned and glanced at him.

"Claire I'm sorry, it was my mistake, it won't happen again." Peter was desperate, Sylar pitied him in that moment, he knew that frustration well.

"That's my point Peter. Sylar doesn't make mistakes like that, he never has." She sighed, "Do you know how many people have died to get me here?" Peter blinked and Sylar let himself enjoy the moment. "Do you have any idea how many Peter? Or why they're dead?"

"I..." he trailed off, of course he didn't.

"They died because they came for me Peter, and they weren't firing blanks, they wanted me dead, Sylar protected me, he killed them, all of them. Only he didn't hesitate, didn't wait around to question the morality of it, he just did it, because they were a threat to me... to him. When they came for us again he didn't try to coddle me, to hide me away, he let me stand and fight, let me save my own god damn life, for once."

She reached up and brushed his cheek. "Could you have done the same thing Peter?" he didn't need to answer, "Would you have slaughtered those men without hesitating, without mercy, to stop them from getting to me?" he looked broken, like she'd torn his heart from his chest, "This is war Peter, sometimes in a war you want the hero... but what you really need, is the monster."

She turned away from Peter and made her way over to him, "Claire!" Peter called after her, tears running down his cheeks, but Claire had eyes only for him she walked past him back to the sofa, she raised her hand brushing her fingers across his stomach as she went, then down to his fingers which brushed hers gently, before she was out of reach. Sylar fixed his eyes on Bennett, for once the man wasn't aiming a gun at him, there was a look of abject horror on his face that was slowly morphing into resignation. Sylar understood Bennett, above all else he wanted Claire safe, right now, he was her best bet, but when this was over, there would be hell to pay.

---*---

Claire sat wearily lying back on the sofa, her head in Sylar's lap, he was fast asleep which was a little disconcerting, that he felt secure enough that he could actually sleep, whilst she was terrified her father or Peter would steal her away if she so much as closed her eyes. That thought was enough to have her mind spinning, they weren't the people she was supposed to be worried about doing that.

Micah's head fell forward and she glanced down at the boy who was sound asleep on the floor, with his head resting on the sofa, his small hand curled firmly around one of her ankles. She wasn't quite sure what to do with that, she wasn't stupid, or blind, clearly Micah was looking to her for something, the tears and the tremble in his body had been real when he'd held onto her. But he couldn't sleep on the floor, and she couldn't sleep on the couch, glancing once at Sylar who's head was rolled back against the back of the couch she decided she could probably risk moving.

Gently extracting herself from his grasp she lifted Micah's hand from around her leg and slid off the couch, hesitating only a moment she slid her arms beneath Micah and lifted him up. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to do that, he was almost as big as her as it was, but if her muscles were protesting she couldn't tell. She walked back to the small gathering of people on the table, they had papers spread out all over the table and they were talking in quiet voices, but that stopped as she approached. Parkman got to his feet and held out his hands.

"Here let me take him off you, I'll put him to bed." Claire handed him over readily and watched as Matt disappeared from the room back into some other part of the warehouse. All eyes were fixed on her when she turned back and she felt mildly self-conscious, she found she could hardly look Peter in the eye, which was a problem given that he kept trying to meet hers.

"Is there some place to sleep?" she asked quietly.

"Sylar can have the couch, I don't think anyone's going to attempt to move him," her father replied when no one else seemed to be able to. "We've made up a bed for you it's through the other side of the warehouse, we've divided it up into sleeping areas with curtains between." Claire nodded.

"Like refuges." She muttered wearily, rubbing her hands across her face, her father looked pained.

"Claire I..." she raised her hand to cut her father off.

"Don't just not now." She sighed, "I know you want to talk, that you have things to say, but I can't hear them right now. I've done what I had to, to survive and I won't apologise for it, you of all people should understand that."

"I do understand." He replied clearly not deterred by her. "That doesn't always excuse it. People will judge you for it whether it was unavoidable or not Claire. That's something you're going to have to learn to live with."

"It's funny dad, but I'm becoming quite comfortable with morally grey." She threw Sylar's words at him and watched in fascination as his mouth opened in surprise and he and Angela shared a significant look that she had no clue about. "I should go, he get's cranky when he doesn't have his beauty sleep." She muttered, turning on her heel and approaching the couch, she hadn't argued the point when they'd mentioned it, but there was no point denying it to them.

She stopped behind Sylar and placed a hand on his head, sliding her fingers through his hair, he woke up quite suddenly the grip on her wrist yanking her forward. "It's me." She called out, in time to prevent herself being catapulted over the top of the couch. He stopped pulling and glanced up at her looking a little bleary eyed. "There's somewhere to sleep in the other room, it's going to be more comfortable than the couch."

Sylar rubbed his eyes and slowly got to his feet, rolling her eyes she walked ahead, unfortunately she made the stupid mistake of looking back over at her father and Peter; perhaps if she wanted Sylar alive she should have left him on the couch. It wouldn't have mattered though, he'd have woken up sooner or later and come to find her and though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all him if he asked, but she enjoyed the feel of a warm body and strong arms around her whilst she slept; that it had never occurred to her to ask anyone else besides Sylar didn't bare thinking about.

Matt was waiting just inside the room, he glanced over at her as she scanned the area, refuge camp had been right, there were camp beds, futons, air beds strewn everywhere, divided by white sheets that people had decorated with pictures and photos. Their few belongings strewn about on beds and across the floor, or neatly folded beneath pillows.

Matt stepped up to them, "We've got beds for you both." He added and began leading them away, he pointed with his finger as they drew close, from the belongings in the little room next to hers, she realised her 'room' was next to her father's, following Matt's gaze he pointed to Sylar's which was pretty much across the room.

Sylar sighed and she caught the movement as he raised his hand, the camp bed in his alcove soared up into the air and coasted towards them, where he waved it down and it slid into position next to hers, bunching them up... well at least they were the same height.

Matt spun on Sylar looking incredulous. "You really think they're going to let you sleep in the same bed as her?"

Sylar looked up at him and glared. "They can't exactly stop it." Matt tensed and she felt so damn tired having to keep stepping in between them all.

"Oh just shut up the both of you. I'm tired, Sylar just get in." She snapped and stalked towards the bed.

"Fine... but we could have had a king size bed, silk sheets, Jacuzzi, room service." He trailed off at her dark look and rolled his eyes as he hopped into the camp bed making the springs groan. She paused staring at Matt as he watched her the pained expression on his face speaking volumes, everyone would try and save her if they could, only problem was the only one that seemed able to was Sylar. Looking away she slid into the bed, Sylar probably hadn't needed to bother dragging the other bed all the way over, by the time he'd finished wrapping his arms around her, they were practically sharing the single.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, she could tell by the way his heart beat slowed and his breathing levelled out, but his arms never grew slack around her, they never did. Sleep was harder for her, especially with an audience, Matt watched her for far too long, but whether or not he was getting anything from inside her head she had no idea.

Peter and her father stood in the doorway discussing her, if they knew she was awake then it didn't seem to matter to them that she wouldn't care to hear all the things they intended to do with Sylar when this was all over. It shocked her to here Peter talking that way, her father was to be expected, he'd always been the overprotective type, the ruthless company man when needed, but Peter... perhaps here words had hit home harder than she'd thought, was this him trying to be the monster?

"Would you two give it a break!" Matt hissed at them quietly, if she hadn't of been listening so intently she wouldn't have even heard it. "You really think you could follow through on any of that Peter, because Bennett doesn't stand a chance alone." She wanted to open her eyes and look up at them, see their expressions, but she remained with her eyes tightly closed, listening instead.

"I hate Sylar, he hurt Molly and her family in so many ways, caused so much death and destruction, but he wasn't wrong, either of them." She heard Matt sigh wearily, "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Peter you have other things to worry about, about 30 other things in this very room in fact. All these people here, they need your protection and unlike Claire, they actually want it. What you think you can protect them all?"

"Yes." Peter snapped, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

"That's a crock and you know it. You can't protect them if you're focusing on Claire, and you sure as hell can't protect her with them all looking to you now. You took Sylar's empathy, to help us win, stop focusing on the two of them and start focusing on the real problem, before you get us all killed!" Matt stalked away she heard his heavy footfalls as they left the room. Once again she was grasped by the urge to look up, but she resisted until she heard movement, curiosity got the better of her and she cracked and eye open arching her neck to see over to the doorway. Peter stood alone, glancing back at her; she hastily closed her eyes, and didn't open them again.

---*---

Claire awoke to Sylar's absence, she bolted upright and before she had even considered the implications or where she was, she was calling it out to him. "Sylar!" Her head whipped around as she scanned the faces that all looked at her in surprise, Peter was standing by the door his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched her becoming frantic.

She leapt from the bed and headed for the larger room with all the computers, "Sylar!" she screeched, Peter's hand went around her bicep and she tried to shake him off, but he wasn't letting go. "Where is he?" she spun on him panic setting in now as she considered the idiocy of staying here last night. Peter opened his mouth to speak when she felt a warm hand on her back, instantly relief flooded her and she spun around wrapping her arms tightly around his lanky frame, Peter's hand dropped away. Panic and relief turned to anger and she wrenched back and delivered a punch to his arm. "Damn you." she snapped, not needing to explain it to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be awake so soon." Sylar replied, looking far too pleased that she'd reacted quite so badly to his absence. He ducked down and she didn't have the chance to do anything as his lips caught hers, maybe it wasn't wise to throw this... thing, whatever it was between them in everyone's faces, but she was too mad and relieved to care right then; she wondered mildly if that'd been his plan. Sylar broke the kiss, not her, she ignored the look he shot Peter and everyone else, it was really non of their damn business, only her father could claim differently and he'd lost the right to vote when he'd started rounding people up again.

"What were you doing?" she decided on safer territory, as she stepped back into the other room, relieved that her father was in there, working steadily on a computer and hadn't seen her with Sylar.

"My midas touch." Sylar shrugged at her confused look, "Resistances need funding, and I can supply it, even your Grandmother's reserves aren't limitless without Bob around." Claire didn't bother to point out that Sylar was the reason Bob wasn't still around.

Her attention turned to Peter who followed them in, his expression seemed permanently locked in one of pain. "Couldn't you have done that?" That pained expression grew into irritation as he gave Sylar the once over.

"No." He snapped and she knew that Sylar was smirking behind her.

"Peter might have borrowed Bob's ability from me, but he can't use it like I can, after all he doesn't have my _'other' _ability." Peter glared back at him, "And somehow I don't think he's too willing to try taking it again. Which means he's a blunt instrument; a weapon with no finesse or skill, using borrowed abilities." Sylar was taunting him and Peter was rising to the bait like a fool.

"Don't talk like you're somehow different." Peter snapped, "Every ability you have is stolen, normally at the expense of someone else's life. I'm better than you, better than that." Peter smiled coolly back at him as if that was a winning argument and Claire couldn't suppress the irritation, when had he started to annoy her? Sylar closed the distance between them, so that he was right in Peter's face, but whilst Peter looked to be on edge, Sylar looked the picture of control.

"How are you better Peter?" Sylar goaded and Peter's eyes raged, his fingers crackling with energy.

"I don't kill people." He snapped instantly.

"But you did and you would have continued to, you had my ability for what? An hour at most before you turned into a monster?" Sylar smirked as Peter paled. "I've lived with it for years, fought it for longer, you're too afraid to try taking that ability again, because you couldn't control it." Sylar leant in closer and Peter refused to lean back as Sylar glared down at him, smirking. "You're a copy cat at best. A pale imitation and even Claire who was willing to follow you blindly once, can see that you're going to get them all killed."

Peter's eyes fell on hers and she had to look away, she hadn't wanted to be dragged into this argument, but as always these two would try to. "Go play the hero Peter, whilst the rest of us save the day." He stalked past Peter, banging his shoulder into his as he forced his way past and Peter had to step aside, Claire remained where she was, feeling a swell of pity for her Uncle. Hesitantly she reached out her hand to his, he jerked it away, looking at her as if she'd slapped him.

"How can you stand being around him Claire, he's bile, every word out of his mouth is designed to inflict pain."

Claire sighed, wishing she understood her answer to that. "I guess you just need to borrow thicker skin." Perhaps it was a low blow, because he looked stunned, and he wasn't alone, the few people that were in hearing range gave her sharp looks. One face in particular, she left Peter standing there and stalked across to Luke, he panicked and raised his hands in front of him.

"Now wait a minute Claire." Luke gasped, stepping backwards and away from her his eyes taking in Sylar, who's attention was also now fixed on him from his position across the room.

"You rat bastard!" Claire snarled at him "You sold us out!" she reached him and managed to land a resounding open handed blow across his face that made him stagger.

"Claire it wasn't like that!" he gasped, as she aimed another blow to his arm, she wanted to slap him senseless for bringing the S.W.A.T. teams down on them, for forcing her to defend herself the way she had. "Claire stop, listen!" he pleaded, trying to ward off her hands without having to resort to frying her. Finally his larger body and superior strength prevailed and he managed to pin her hands to her side whilst keeping his shins out of range. "I had no choice, they were going to kill me!"

"They tried to kill me because of you." she snarled, "I had to defend myself, I had to kill them." She hissed, "they're deaths are on your head!"

"That's no loss Claire, I'm glad they're dead, besides I knew you'd be fine, you were with him." He jerked his head, indicating Sylar who had strangely enough remained on the other side of the room watching intently.

"I killed people Luke, don't you get it, because you told them where we were, I became a killer."

"We're all killers Claire, this is war, everyone has to make choices like that, out of me and them, I pick me!" Luke shoved her roughly away from him. "If you remember that's why I left in the first place, you'd have got me killed Claire." The accusation stung, because it was probably true, he nodded sharply at her.

"I'm sorry I gave you up, but you're fine, and I'm still alive to help now because I did." He brushed past her and she stared after him feeling somehow guilty, he nodded once at Sylar who merely glanced at him before seemingly dismissing him with a look away. She stood feeling useless against the wall of the warehouse trying to ignore the way people still continued to watch her, maybe this place had been boring before she'd shown up and that's why they couldn't seem to take their eyes off her? Sylar in fact was the only one not watching her, which was a refreshing change; normally he didn't take his eyes off her.

It was strange she didn't know what to do with herself, when she'd been with Sylar on the road it had been simple, all she had to do was what he'd told her, get in the car, wait to arrive at their next destination. But here no one expected anything of her, except what they always did, to sit tight and look pretty; she was something to protect not something that could be of use. Even Sylar was reluctant to invite her into their plans; she wasn't sure which was worse, Sylar giving a damn about her, or him not.

Peter was stood arms folded across the room his eyes fixed intently on her, she wondered if he was reading her mind, there was of course only one way to be sure, so she focused hard on the memory of Sylar and what he'd done to her in the shower at the start of their journey. Peter flinched and his fists balled, she smirked, served him right for being in her head, he stalked across the room she held her breath, of course it was possible she'd pushed even Peter too far. His hand closed around her wrist without a word and he dragged her behind him, she paused only for a second as a face appeared from the back room with the beds, a face she knew too well.

"West?" surprise was evident in her voice and she was sure her mouth was hanging open.

"Claire." He managed looking uncomfortable, she pulled her arm from Peter's grasp, which was probably only possible because he let her.

"What are you...?" she began.

"Your father found me, well we sort of found each other, he said he knew some place I could hide, gave me directions to here a few weeks ago." West shrugged but she wasn't fooled, he looked like he wanted to fly away.

Claire nodded, not even trying to consider the awkwardness of the situation.

"So, you got kidnapped by a serial killer?" there was something about the way he said that, it reminded her of when he'd used to call her a robot back in school and her hackles rose.

"Saved by one actually, from my bio-daddy and his goons." Perhaps she'd been a little sharp because he gave her a quizzical look.

"Well I'm glad you're ok Claire." He seemed genuine, his floppy brown bangs fell in his eyes and he brushed them away impatiently.

"I'm really not." She replied quietly, drawing both his and Peter's attention back to her, but she wiped the expression from her face, not even sure why the words had come out. She wanted to smile at them, tell them everything was fine, that her world hadn't fallen apart, but she wasn't alone, West's life was over, he couldn't even tell his family what had happened to him, just like Alex. Peter was just like her, running from a man that should have been protecting them, helping them, none of their lives made sense anymore.

Strong hands landed on her shoulders and she almost sobbed with the relief of it, she would know his hands now, even in a thousand years she was certain she would recognise them, and his scent, the cool pine and hint of musk. He always knew what she needed, wanted, even before she did, she felt his firm chest behind her and she leant back into it, and he didn't need an ability to get inside her head to do it.

"Why did he do this to us?" she breathed, ashamed at the hitch in her voice.

"Why is there evil?" was his curt reply and she bowed her head, the question hung between the four of them, but only the two of them understood its true significance.

"I want him dead." She heard Peter draw in a sharp breath, but she didn't care, she had never been more certain of anything. Turning in Sylar's arms she gazed up at him. "I want him dead." She reiterated, staring into his dark features trying to decipher the emotions that barely registered, incomprehensible to anyone else, but she was slowly beginning to decipher.

His hand rose and cupped her cheek, "I know you do Claire. But I won't kill him for you." she was stung, what was the point in having a serial killer beside you if he wouldn't do the one thing he was good at? He raised a finger to her lips to stop her protest.

"Sylar's right Claire." Peter added, reminding her that he's there. "We can't kill Nathan."

Sylar looked over the top of her at Peter and she knew that dangerous expression too well. "Oh I didn't say he wouldn't die, I said I wouldn't kill him." Sylar's eyes came back down to her and he cupped her face with both hands. "Claire doesn't just want him dead, she wants to be the one to kill him." She had no voice to deny it, because the words sunk deep into her and she couldn't, she did want to be the one to kill him, her own father, the man that had given her life, she wanted to take his from him.

"Claire isn't killing anyone!" Peter hissed, grasping Sylar and pulling him away from her, so that he could take her in his arms. But Sylar's eyes never left hers, even as Peter wrapped arms around her and she felt her feet lift off the floor, he could have stopped them she was certain of it, he just didn't need to, she'd come back to him, and they both knew it.


	8. Screaming into the Quiet Night

**Into the Quiet Night - by Devilishlysas**

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I don't own Heroes, Sylar, Claire or any of the other characters. I just borrow them to feed my muse from time to time.  
**Rating: **PG-13 to NC-17, for some sexuality and dark themes; mild non-con  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Pairing: **Sylar/Claire  
**Spoilers: **AU to Fugitives Season after Sylar's met Luke but before Shades of Gray  
**Word count: **~45,000

**Chapter 8: Screaming into the Quiet Night**

Peter held her firmly, as the door to the warehouse burst open and they swept out into the morning sunlight, higher and higher, climbing into the air. She'd only ever flown with West before and he'd been so careful with her she'd felt like glass, but Peter was too angry to care if she was comfortable, not that it was possible for her to tell if she wasn't anyway. Claire spared a glance down seeing the ground fall away and the buildings shrink, impossibly fast and high they travelled, until they reached the clouds. It was strange to be so high and not have to worry about falling, before when West had held her, she'd still given the thought a moment, after all falling so far would hurt when she landed, but now... she almost wished it would, it would make this moment feel more real.

Peter's arms were rigid around her waist and she could feel his hard lines pressed against her chest, for such a slight guy, she was always impressed at how toned he seemed. He slipped an arm more firmly around her waist and raised the other to her cheek, almost in the exact same way that Sylar had until he could bring her gaze to his. The look in his eyes stunned her into silence, she knew that look, had only recently become acquainted with it, but it was unmistakeable.

"Don't look at me like that Peter." She told him quietly.

"Claire." He started as his arms drew her closer, she didn't know what to tell him. "You know I love you Claire, I only want to keep you safe, innocent." The pain in his voice was all too real and she could practically hear his fear that she was becoming the killer he had tried so hard to prevent. "Please Claire, for once, listen to me, let this go, let us deal with it, I promise you we'll find a way to stop this, to undo everything he's done, to make him pay."

"Would you kill your own brother Peter?"

He responded without hesitation. "Yes." Peter's eyes locked on hers, so close to her face that she could make out every colour in his dark irises, "To keep you from becoming a killer, yes."

"I've already killed people Peter." She reminded him, letting the memory of the agent's head that she had exploded with a shotgun swim in her memory.

"In self defence Claire, but never in cold blood. You've never hunted someone down and put a bullet in them. That is what would make you a killer, would turn you cold." He pulled her head against his chest, cradling her there as if he could hide her from the world if he just held her tightly enough. "I can't see your eyes that way again Claire." He drew her head up and his lips crashed over hers with quiet desperation, she felt a jolt of surprise and something else spark through her.

There was no denying that once upon her time, this had been her fantasy, her hero, her Peter. He groaned in her mouth and sucked harder against her lips, trying to get her to open her mouth to him as his hands clutched at her. For a moment she let herself imagine, she kissed him, but she couldn't match his intensity, as he tried to claim every inch of her mouth, she'd expected him to be gentle, soft, sweet, but he was attacking her mouth with every bit of ferocity in him.

"I love you." he gasped tearing his mouth from her swollen lips to stare into her face, "I've always loved you, from the moment I first saw you, blood stained and terrified, running from Sylar, I knew I had to protect you, that I'd die for you." He claimed her mouth again and she pulled back fractionally, bringing her hands up to his chest to press against them.

"Stop. Peter stop." She told him firmly against his lips, he pressed a softer kiss to her lips, then to the corner of her mouth holding her face firmly before he finally did, resting his forehead against hers.

"You're my Uncle." He went rigid and she felt them drop fractionally in the air, before he clutched at her tighter.

"I didn't know that then Claire, you can't just turn off a feeling like that just because it's suddenly inappropriate." He pressed closer into her and she became aware of just how inappropriate Peter's feelings for her were. "I love you, far more than any Uncle has a right too. Every time he touches you, I just want to tear him to pieces, the way he looks at you Claire, it turns my stomach. Just the thought of him alone with you, of the things he did to you, he took advantage of you Claire, I've seen it inside your head, you were manipulated, you don't love him, not like you love me."

He kissed her again and she so badly wanted it to feel right, to feel the way she'd always imagined kissing Peter would, but she felt nothing but pity. His lips tore away from hers and she knew from the hurt look on his face that he'd heard her.

"I'm sorry Peter, but I don't feel the same way. I love you..." there was no point denying it, "I think I always will, but I love you like I love Lyle and my mother, like family. You're like my brother Peter, a brother I used to have a crush on, but that's it and this..." she waved her hand between them. "It's wrong."

"Claire." Peter tried again and she looked away, not able to see the tears that were shining in his eyes. "How can you reject me and let a thing like Sylar touch you?" his tone stung and she was certain it was supposed to, he was going to try and hurt her like she'd just hurt him.

"Because he's not a thing, he's a man." She replied quietly. "Deeply flawed and more than a little bit broken, but still just a man in the end." Turning back to him she met his hard stare, wanting him to understand this if he understood nothing else. "Do you know that Sylar is the one person in my whole god damn screwed up life that's never lied to me?" Peter frowned so she continued,

"Never, not once has he told me something that wasn't the whole awful truth. I hate him, it's something so deep inside of me that I'm afraid of just how badly I want to hurt him, to make him pay for every vile and terrible thing he's done. But I need him."

"I can protect you!" he shouted at her, practically shaking her with his fury.

"It's not just about that Peter." How could she explain something she didn't even understand herself? "I don't just need him for protection, it's more than that."

"You don't love him Claire." He hissed with absolute certainty.

"Of course I don't." She snapped, "But I hate him too much to not feel anything." She added darkly. "You don't think I know how strange this is, how fucked up?" she pushed at his chest trying to shove him away, forgetting their position dangling thousands of feet up in the air, fortunately he didn't let go.

"God, I'm so screwed up inside, but I'm so sick of being lied to Peter, so sick of being coddled and used as everyone's god damn excuse!" she glared soundly at him. "I'm not a child Peter, I'm not even that scared little bloodstained cheerleader in Odessa anymore." She sighed, "I'm becoming something else, and Sylar's the only one that see's that. He makes me feel like I'm strong, and next to him, I seem downright normal. " she reached up and brushed his cheek, "Peter, I can barely feel anything anymore, it's like I'm not even really experiencing it all sometimes. I can't tell if it's cold up here, or if your hands are warm, I could fall all the way down and I wouldn't even cry out when I hit the ground. I'm going to live forever this way... broken."

"Sylar broke you Claire, it was his fault!"

She shook her head slowly. "I thought it was, I blamed him, but he didn't do this to me... I did this to me. I always do, that future you saw, Sylar didn't have my ability, that other you, told me it wasn't supposed to happen, but somehow I still got to that place, still became cold and unfeeling." He didn't argue and so she pressed on. "It was going to happen, my body doesn't need to feel pain, but losing pain, it costs you so much more."

"We'll find a way to fix it Claire, we have scientists, mother knows people, we'll find a way to undo it." He was so anxious to solve everything that he wasn't really listening to her.

"Peter, Sylar makes me feel things." He looked like she'd slapped him, "When I'm with him, my emotions are a car wreck; I'm like a giant raw nerve. When he touches me, half of me wants to tear his face off, whilst the other half wants more. He understands things Peter, he understands me, and my whole fucked up body a million times better than I do; he can make me feel."

"Claire, please, don't do this." Peter pleaded, "I can't see you with him, your father can't, even mother is crawling out of her skin over this. Even Nathan," he paused at her foul look, "Even he was appalled, wanted me to stop it, to get you away from him." He hugged her tightly, "Claire just think what it would do to your mother if she knew."

Claire paused, and she did think about it, she recalled one of the last conversations she'd had with her mother before Eric Doyle had walked back into their lives and got her arrested. Her mother had told her about her dad, about how she'd fallen in love with the handsome dangerous guy; that it wasn't the terrible things he did that had stopped her loving him, it was the lies. Sylar never lied to her. Peter tensed, clutching her tightly, she didn't even need to speak aloud, he could hear her inner thoughts perfectly.

"I can't change your mind can I?" He sighed sounding utterly defeated. "You're going to go back to him no matter who it hurts."

"I didn't plan this Peter, it wasn't my fault. If it's my destiny, then fate has a really bad sense of humour."

"I know." He whispered and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you so much Claire, you have no idea." She thought he was probably right, she'd never loved anyone as fiercely as he seemed to, probably never would. "I hope one day you'll forgive me." The words whispered against her ear took a moment to register, when they did she froze. Adrenalin fuelled her and she lashed out, trying to break his hold, but her arms wouldn't move, nor would her legs, she couldn't even raise her head to look him in the eyes.

The air raced past them and she tried to shout, to say something anything, but her lips remained sealed, so she raged inside, knowing he would hear her.

'_Peter stop, please, don't do this!' _

She had no idea what he was planning, but as the ground raced by beneath them she realised she wasn't going to like it. "It's for the best Claire, I know what you think about him, but you can't see what he's done to you, the way he's manipulated you into thinking you need him. We've discussed it Claire, the four of us, this is the only way to keep him from you." Claire focused every inch of her will, praying for a miracle, all she needed was an arm free, but Peter's ability was stronger than her, his will was stronger.

The air continued to race past them and she felt her insides plummet, her family had betrayed her, Nathan had been bad enough, but she had never really been close to him, this was so much worse. The ground got closer, Peter's treacherous arms held her firmly, his ability kept her pinned as she began to make out the shapes of buildings, Washington, she was in Washington, which meant only one thing, he was taking her to Nathan. "He'll keep you safe Claire, Sylar will never find you."

'_Idiot!' _ She thought furiously at him, '_Sylar will find me, he'll walk into this building and tear it apart to find me!'_ The idea of it filled her with hope.

"You won't be here, you'll be long gone when he comes looking Claire."

'_They'll experiment on me Peter, they'll take away my ability, hurt me, please Peter, don't do this.' _She was begging and she didn't care.

"Nathan will keep you safe, he won't let them touch you." he replied, his mouth set in a grim line, even after all this, he still trusted his big brother. _Idiot. _They landed on a rooftop, Peter kept her in his arms, holding her tightly as a suited figure she recognised too well turned to face them.

"Peter." Nathan greeted him with a sharp nod, his eyes falling on her, "Claire." She tried to open her mouth to curse at him but her lips remained sealed, she had to settle for the death glare.

"He's twisted her all up inside Nathan." Peter walked forward carrying her back to her father. Nathan looked grim as he held out his hands for her. "The minute I release her, she'll attack you, she wants you dead." The two of them held each other's gaze and she couldn't read what was being spoken silently.

"It's good to know you don't Pete." Nathan told him with a small smile for his brother.

"I didn't say that Nathan." Peter replied coolly, "But I don't want my only niece turning into a cold blooded murder because of scum like you." Nathan flinched, Peter's words evidently stinging. "Keep her away from him, at least then you can say you did something positive for your daughter." His eyes dropped to hers and she screamed at him inside, he winced.

"I love you Claire, please don't forget that, one day you'll understand." He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and shot up into the air with a pop, she watched him disappear overhead, feeling her limbs return to her control. Instantly she shoved at Nathan, trying to pry herself loose, but he was stronger than her, it seemed just about everyone was.

"Let me go!" she screeched at Nathan, aiming a kick for his shins that connected, he grunted but didn't let her down, just lifted her more firmly into his grasp until she was pinned.

"I'm so sorry this had to happen Claire, that we let him take you. I promise you, we'll fix this," he pressed a kiss to her hair and she felt bile rise, "I love you Claire, you're my only daughter, whatever you may think of me... I'm a family man at heart." He turned around and started walking back towards the roof door that would take her down into the building, to a cell. The door slammed shut and Nathan froze, one foot paused in front of the other, she felt a tremor run through him as he worked muscles but couldn't seem to move.

"Somehow I don't think Claire believes you." That voice, she could have cried with relief, his arms released her and she dropped to the floor heavily, rolling away she jumped to her feet as he was lifted off the ground and turned slowly to face the one man that never seemed to let her down.

"How did you...?" she didn't know which question to ask first,_ how did you get here? How did you find me? How did you know I needed you?_

Sylar grinned at her and she remained standing beside Nathan's floating form, "It seems West and I have a few things in common, mostly to do with you." his grin widened at her confusion, "Who'd have thought I could empathise with a teenage boy."

"You can fly?"

He shrugged, "More useful than I'd imagined really." His grip on Nathan tightened and he hissed in pain. "I followed Peter, he really isn't very adept at using multiple powers at once, especially not on different people, if he'd been focused he should have heard my heartbeat, or my thoughts." She paled slightly, imagining he'd heard everything. "Seems like I really am the only man in your life that won't betray you." Claire stared at him as he held the man that should have been her father aloft, squeezing the air from his lungs, somehow she couldn't bring herself to care. Quickly she crossed to him and turned to face Nathan, sliding her hand into his loose one.

"Peter is he... gone?" Claire glanced skywards.

"Yes. Seems like the boy scout couldn't bear to watch the fall out." His hand brushed along her back and she moved closer to his side, letting his arm wrap around her.

"What happens now?" she glanced at Nathan; his eyes were fixed nervously wide and slightly pained on Sylar though.

"That's up to you Claire." Sylar replied and Nathan's eyes instantly dropped to hers he wasn't pleading though, she didn't know him well, but she thought she would recognise that look if it crossed his face.

"He's my father." She said quietly not to anyone specific. "And it doesn't seem to matter at all to him... so why should it bother me." Sylar raised her hand in his, turning it over he slipped something cool and metal into it. Her hand closed around the grip of the gun and she stared back at Nathan's eyes, so much like Peter's, but right now that wasn't working his favour.

"What will it feel like when he's dead?" she asked Sylar stepping forward slightly, her hand trembling as she raised the gun to Nathan.

"I don't know Claire, I've never killed my father before... my mother though." Claire glanced back at him, she didn't know that about him. "It was an accident, I tried to show her who I was, the amazing things I could do, but she was afraid of me, afraid of her own son. We struggled and she fell on the scissors." Claire turned back to Nathan who was opening his mouth gasping for air.

"I felt rage." He continued, "Rage that she'd been afraid of me, that she couldn't accept me for who I was. And guilt of course, crushing, blinding guilt, so sharp it makes your chest close and your throat burn. But it passed, when I came to realise that she had never really loved me, not the real me." Claire held the gun as steady as she could, curling her fingers tightly around it as she raised her finger to the trigger.

"Will I hate myself?"

"No more so than you do already." Was Sylar's swift response. "He's brought you to this point Claire, they all have, you're no more responsible for it then they are now." She didn't entirely believe that, after all the choice was still hers, the gun was still in her hand.

"Will this turn me into you?"

He stepped up behind her and his hands ghosted down her shoulders, until she felt his lips against her hair. "No. I won't let it." She squeezed the trigger, the bullet flew straight, her aim more perfect than she wanted, the splash of blood and brain against the wall caused her to drop the gun, giving in to the whole way her body shook. Nathan dropped to the floor, like a puppet who's strings had been cut, the black bloody hole in his face where an eye had once been made her stomach turn and she flung herself to the floor, emptying the contents of her stomach, which wasn't much.

Sylar stood behind her, his hand on her back rubbing in large gentle circles, pulling her hair out of her face whilst she wretched. She sat back on her knees, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand, not daring to look at the body again, it wasn't Nathan anymore, just something dead that she'd killed.

"We have to go Claire." Sylar told her gently, his hands going beneath her armpits to lift her onto her feet. "They'll have heard the shot." He explained, waving his hand so that the weapon flew back to him, where he tucked it into his belt, he waved his hand again and the spent bloody bullet flew into his hand from its position on the floor next to the concrete wall.

"We just leave him here?" Claire asked hesitantly, her voice trembling so badly she was surprised he could make out what she said.

"Yes." Sylar replied, grasping her around the waist and pulling her into his arms, he launched them into the air just as she heard shouts and a smattering of gun fire from below. She didn't look back and Sylar flew them away from her crime.

---*---

Sylar held her tightly in his arms, trying to understand his own feelings in this matter, Claire was his now, completely, he was certain of it. Everyone else had abandoned or betrayed her; she had killed the only man she hated possibly more than him. Had he won? He wasn't sure, as she rested her head against his chest, he let his arms curl around her tightly, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness of soaring through the sky unaided.

She wasn't crying, it wasn't too much of a surprise; shock was still the overriding factor for her body right now. He considered where to go, after all with their abilities and resources it really wouldn't be difficult for Bennett and Peter to locate them and he wasn't afraid of them, why should he run? But Claire was another matter entirely. If he took her back to the resistance, to her family, would it break her?

Not so long ago he wouldn't have even bothered to ask the question; let alone care about the answer. But Nathan was dead, the Government's little task force would simply replace him, probably with someone more ruthless, who's loyalties weren't split and who had absolutely no qualms about killing them all instead of locking them away. Had it been up to him, he would probably have left Nathan in charge for now, systematically destroyed the rest of the operation before turning to him, but Claire had needed this. It was strange, he'd never considered anyone else's feelings before his own goals before, he wasn't sure what it meant, or if it even meant anything.

"Peter will find us won't he?" She stated quite calmly.

"Probably." Sylar replied, seeing no reason to sugar coat it. "He'll be a problem for as long as you're with me." Claire nodded.

"I can't kill him... even after this, he's still Peter." She admitted sadly.

"I can." She didn't argue or attempt to dissuade him, in fact she made no comment at all about that statement and he couldn't help but smile slightly, it was a form of permission in itself. He didn't mention Bennett, but he was clearly on her mind.

"I know what Peter said Claire, but I can't imagine Noah agreeing to any plan that put you in a cage, even a gilded one." It was odd to be defending the man, but it was the truth and he owed her that much.

"Maybe." Came her soft response. He landed them quietly on a hillside somewhere outside of California; it was certainly going to make getting places quicker like this, no more three day car journeys. "I feel hollow." Claire told him quietly, patting her stomach as if checking she was indeed still solid.

"It'll pass." He assured her.

"And if it doesn't?"

"You'll adapt." He replied after a moments consideration, after all it was entirely possible she wouldn't get over what she had done; she wasn't exactly the same as him after all, not yet.

"Where do we go now?" he glanced out across the beautiful countryside and considered the question.

"It depends Claire." He responded finally, "On whether or not you want to carry on fighting the good fight, on whether you want to save them?" she blinked looking up at him, having to raise her hand to shade her eyes to see him in the sunlight.

"I don't know." She replied after a few minutes of blissful silence. "All the people I wanted to help tried to give me to Nathan. I don't know the rest." She dropped her hand and closed her eyes, giving up on trying to make out his expression through the glare.

"Maybe that's an answer Claire." He pointed out, "If you don't know if you care about them, you probably don't."

She might not have been able to see his face clearly, but he could see hers as the tears slipped down her cheeks. "Can we just walk away like that?" was she asking permission? He glanced down at her, her large green eyes were fixed on him.

"We're going to outlive them all Claire, long after they're dead and buried and this whole war is forgotten, we'll still be here. Does it really matter how it ends in the long run, they'll all die anyway in the end, those with abilities and those without." She turned away from him facing the countryside; she seemed to be considering it, probably for the first time, what it truly meant to be immortal; a concept that had taken him milliseconds to put into context.

"So you think we should just let them duke it out, get themselves all killed now, pick up the pieces later." She reasoned.

"Why not?" he pressed, sensing he was finally seeing Claire begin to understand the world the way he did.

"Seems cold." She responded, still not looking away from the scenery.

"Just practical." Sylar corrected. "We aren't like them Claire; we have to be able to see beyond tomorrow, see to a thousand tomorrows." He placed his hands gently on her small shoulders, she didn't relax them, but she didn't shrug him off either. "There will be a big fight, people will die, probably quite a few, most of them likely innocent bystanders; just like with any war. One side will win, or neither will, either way it will be covered up, buried, neither side wants the truth getting out. Either way the world will never know what happened; will never care that people fought and died for the freedom to exist against blind fear. So I ask you, does it really matter who wins if the outcome is the same eventually?"

Claire was silent and still, the gentle wind blowing her blonde hair lightly to curl around her face as she stared out over a view that had barely changed in thousands of years. "Can we really just quietly disappear from history?" she asked gently and he smiled wide, he knew he had won.

"We can do anything we want to Claire... we're special."


End file.
